UBRARY 

^Unlvtnity  of 


Stratagems  and  Spoils 


Stratagems  and  Spoils 

Stories  of  Love  and  Politics 


By 

William  Allen 

Author  of  "  Tfit  Court  of  Boyville,"  "  The  Real  Issue,"  Etc. 


Illustrated 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  rr^^:  1901 


PS 


Copyright,  1901,  by 
Charles  Scrtbner's  Sons 


ROW  DIBfCTORY 
HEW    YO«X 


Co 

TEE   KANSAS   CITY   STAR 

AN    HONEST   NEWSPAPER 
AND   TO 

WILLIAM   K.  NELSON,  JAMES  B.  RUNNION 
THOMAS  W.  JOHNSTON,  JR. 

AND 

ALEXANDER  BUTTS 

WHO   MADE  IT 

THIS  BOOK  IS  RESPECTFULLY 
DEDICATED 


PREFACE 

THE  novel,  which  was  once  a  branch  of 
literature,  recently  has  grown  independent  of 
it,  and  has  become  a  civilizing  agency,  with  a 
place  as  distinct  and  seemingly  as  permanent 
as  the  press  or  the  pulpit,  or  the  theatre,  or 
the  bar.  The  accepted  motive  of  fiction  seems 
to  be  the  love  motive — the  affairs  of  the  young 
man  and  the  young  woman.  The  stories  in 
this  volume  are  offered  with  an  apology. 
The  love  motive  may  not  be  dominant  enough 
in  these  tales  to  make  them  what  they  should 
be ;  yet  the  period  of  mating  occupies  but  a 
fleeting  moment  in  the  average  life.  A  few 
hours  in  a  few  days  out  of  a  few  months  in 
a  few  years  and  it  is  over,  and  the  serious 
business  of  life  begins.  There  are  hours  and 
days  and  long  years  in  the  lives  of  men  and 
women  wherein  strong  passions  are  excited 
and  great  human  interests  are  at  stake.  The 


PREFACE 

ambition  for  power,  the  greed  for  mone}r, 
the  desire  to  win  the  game,  the  hunger  for 
fame,  parental  love,  auger,  friendship,  revenge, 
hate  —  the  primitive  passions  that  move  men 
and  the  world  powerfully  —  certainly  these 
deserve  as  important  a  place  in  the  chronicles 
of  the  human  animal  as  does  the  mating  in 
stinct,  and  surely  there  should  be  some  ro 
mance  about  the  record  of  these  primitive 
passions.  It  is  with  this  idea  in  view  that 
the  stories  in  this  volume  are  set  in  the  field 
of  American  politics,  where  every  human 
emotion  finds  as  free  play  as  it  could  have 
found  in  the  courts  of  the  mediaeval  kings. 
Romance  does  not  die  in  men  when  their 
trouser-legs  fall  below  their  knees;  nor  in 
women  when  they  cease  to  fear  abduction  to 
the  baronial  castle  and  the  donjon  keep. 
Neither  does  the  zest  of  life  end  when  the 
old  shoes  and  the  rice-shower  strike  the 
hack.  The  bread-and-butter  problem  is  as 
thrilling  as  the  diagram  of  the  corrugated 
course  of  true  love.  The  history  of  the  battle 
of  life  in  the  sunlight  is  as  full  of  sprightly 
adventure  of  merry  combat  of  bitter  pathos  as 


PREFACE 

the  little  prologue  to  the  battle-story  in  the 
moonlight.  These  stories  of  American  poli 
tics  hereinafter  following  are  stories  of  men 
and  women  of  mature  years  and  of  that 
ponderous  folly  which  we  call  mature  judg 
ment.  They  were  not  consciously  made  good 
men  and  women,  nor  bad — but  they  were  in 
tended  to  be  human.  If  those  that  are  strong 
show  the  running  reader  something  of  the 
way  to  strength ;  or  if  those  that  are  weak 
point  a  warning  ringer  across  his  path,  then 
these  ink-and-paper  people  will  not  have  lived 
in  vain.  For  the  best  any  of  us  can  do  in  this 
world,  even  those  of  us  who  have  the  advan 
tage  of  flesh  and  blood  and  do  not  have  to 
sit  cramped  between  book-covers,  is  to  make 
our  lives  good  examples.  As  for  the  precepts 
which  should  go  with  the  example,  they  have 
been  made  these  three  thousand  years,  and, 
Heaven  knows,  have  been  neglected  and  for 
gotten,  too,  for  that  matter. 

But  to  come  to  politics :  There  is  much 
scandalous  talk  by  scantily  informed  people 
about  the  corruption  of  politics.  The  truth 
of  the  matter  is :  That  politicians  are  about 


PREFACE 

as  honest  in  their  business  as  storekeepers 
are  in  their  business,  or  lawyers  are  in  their 
business,  or  bankers  or  preachers,  or  day- 
laborers,  or  farmers,  or  college  professors, 
are  in  their  own  callings.  Of  course,  politi 
cians  are  not  so  honest  as  lawyers  imagine 
they  would  be  if  they  were  preachers ;  nor  as 
preachers  fancy  they  would  be  if  they  were 
storekeepers ;  nor  as  storekeepers  believe 
they  would  be  as  lawyers.  But,  in  the  main, 
the  business  or  professional  man  has  no 
reason  to  despise  the  politician.  For  the  poli 
tician  does  not  lie  unless  he  is  forced  to  by 
another  man's  duplicity  (which  is  the  standard 
in  other  vocations).  He  does  not  take  bribes 
except  in  ignorance — as  the  business  men  and 
the  farmer  and  the  preacher  do  every  day  of 
their  lives.  And  the  politician,  above  all,  does 
not  admire  the  cheat  and  the  deceiver.  The 
political  ideals  of  the  average  ward-caucus  are 
as  high  as  the  ideals  in  most  other  gatherings. 
The  brave  man,  who  wins  by  raw  courage  and 
shrewd  directness  and  simple  honesty,  is 
honored  as  sincerely  and  is  as  successful  in 
politics  to-day  as  he  is  in  any  other  branch 


of  human  endeavor,  however  exalted  its  crite 
rion.  The  county  convention  of  Douglas 
County,  Kansas,  or  of  Kings  County,  New 
York,  is  operated  on  a  moral  plane  about 
as  high  as  the  faculty  politics  of  the  average 
University,  or  as  that  of  the  Church  politics 
of  the  various  religious  organizations. 

In  the  business  of  politics  we  are  all  part 
ners.  The  concern  reflects  the  American 
average.  The  man  who  does  not  participate 
in  the  partnership — who  refuses  to  vote — 
merely  drags  down  the  average  for  an  honest 
negro  or  an  active  Polak  or  a  capable  Irish 
emigrant  to  elevate.  In  the  following  stories 
it  will  be  found  that  the  liar  fails  and  the 
honest  man  succeeds  with  about  the  regu 
larity  that  liars  fail  and  honest  men  succeed 
in  life ;  while  the  ignorant  flounder  and  the 
strong  man  grows  weary  even  as  in  life.  The 
complaint  that  they  end  unhappily  may  be 
filed  against  these  tales.  To  which  this 
affiant  answereth  :  Life  often  ends  unhappily. 
They  are  intended  to  be  as  moral  as  life— 
these  stories ;  but  no  more  so ;  and  if  the}7 
teach  anything  probably  it  is  what  politics 


PKEFACE 

and  business  and  physical  and  intellectual 
life  teach :  That  it  pays  to  speak  the  truth,  to 
be  brave,  to  be  kind,  to  be  helpful.  And 
further  deponent  sayeth  not. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


The  Man  on  Horseback  ....  / 
A  Victory  for  the  People  .  ...  45 
"A  Triumph's  Evidence"  .  .  .  8j 

The  Mercy  of  Death 141 

A  Most  Lamentable  Comedy     . 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

"/'//  see  that  every  bouse  in  Brookdale 

Park  is  Open  to  you,'"     .      .      .       Frontispiece 

Facing 
page 

"  But  wbaf  you  -want   to  do  is  to  get 

right  with  the  people," 24 

"Well,   Joab,    wbat    is    it?"    was    her 

greeting, 38 

The  Governor  looked  up  and  said,  "  Well, 

Senator  ?" 54 

She  waited   until    tbe    stenographer   bad 

left  tbe  room, 74 

"  Wbat  you  fellers  want  is  to  work 
twenty-four  hours  a  day  and  twenty- 
six  on  Sunday," 206, 


THE  MAN  ON   HORSEBACK 


THE  MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

ESIDE  the  Missouri  Kiver  there  is  a  busy 
i__)  city.  At  the  outskirts  of  the  city  there 
is  a  beautiful  suburb  called  Brookdale  Park. 
In  Brookdale  Park  there  is  a  wide  lawn,  shad 
ed  here  and  there  by  tall  elm-trees.  Upon 
the  wide  lawn  there  is  a  sprawling  gray  stone 
castle.  In  the  great  castle  there  is  a  room, 
lined  with  leather  and  decorated  with  long 
rows  of  books,  most  of  which  stand  in  un 
broken  sets.  In  one  of  the  books — a  fat  book 
bound  in  morocco — is  the  steel-engraved  pict 
ure  of  a  man  with  scraggly,  unkempt  beard  and 
keen  dark  eyes.  The  picture  shows  the  man 
wearing  a  black  string  necktie  and  a  Prince 
Albert  coat,  after  the  exact  fashion  of  the  coats 
and  ties  in  all  the  other  pictures  in  the  book. 
Under  the  picture  is  a  cramped  fac-simile  of 
a  signature  written  with  a  stub-pen,  without 
a  curve  or  flourish.  On  the  opposite  page  is 
the  title  of  the  volume, "  Makers  of  the  Mighty 
3 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

West,"  and  near  it  is  the  page  number,  983, 
and  then  follows  this  sketch : 

"  JOAB  T.  BARTON — FINANCIER. 

"Joab  Teal  Barton  was  born  in  Huron 
County,  Ohio,  in  1838,  of  poor  but  honest  pa 
rents.  He  was  educated  in  the  country  schools 
and  spent  a  few  months  in  Miami  Academy 
before  the  breaking  out  of  the  war.  He  en 
tered  the  27th  Regiment  of  Ohio  Volunteers 
and  served  his  country  four  years,  taking  part 
in  the  battles  of  the  Wilderness  and  in  the 
campaign  that  ended  at  Appomattox  Court 
House.  He  came  west  at  the  close  of  the  war, 
and  1866  found  him  at  Hannibal,  Missouri, 
where,  being  without  employment  and  funds, 
he  accepted  a  position  as  brakeman  on  the 
Hannibal  and  St.  Joe  Railroad.  Promotions 
came  rapidly,  and  three  years  later  as  a  con 
ductor  Mr.  Barton  ran  the  first  train  into  Den 
ver.  A  year  later  he  was  made  trainmaster, 
and  in  1872  he  was  superintendent  of  the  Mis 
souri  Valley  Division  of  the  Hannibal  and  St. 
Joe,  and  in  1875  he  became  traffic  manager  of 
the  Corn  Belt  system  when  it  was  known  as 
the  Leavenworth  and  Solomon  Valley.  The 
road  at  that  time  began  at  the  Missouri  River," 
4 


THE   MAN   ON   HOBSEBACK 

and,  as  its  directors  used  to  say,  "  lost  itself 
in  the  sage-brush "  near  what  is  now  Abilene. 
To-day,  when  Joab  T.  Barton,  President  and 
General  Manager  of  the  close  corporation 
which  controls  this  mighty  national  highway, 
issues  a  system  pass,  it  is  good  from  the  Great 
Lakes  to  the  Pacific,  and  from  the  Missouri 
River  to  the  Gulf. 

"  But  the  management  of  this  vast  enter 
prise  consumes  only  a  part  of  the  man's  en 
ergy.  Being  public  spirited,  he  organized  the 
company  which  was  granted  the  franchise  for 
the  water-works  system  that  his  home  city  en 
joys,  and  his  efforts  were  instrumental  in  get 
ting  Eastern  capital  to  put  down  the  first 
street  railway  in  the  city  in  1876.  That  street 
railway  was  operated  by  three  mules,  yet  it 
was  the  beginning  from  which  the  magnificent 
transportation  system  known  as  the  West  Side 
Electric  Railway  sprang.  This  is  one  of  the 
enterprises  to  which  Mr.  Barton  gives  much 
of  his  attention.  He  is  also  a  large  owner  of 
the  stock  of  the  Missouri  Valley  Gas  Heating 
and  Electric  Company,  and  his  real  estate 
holdings  are  found  all  over  the  city. 

"  Personally  the  subject  of  this  sketch  is 
quiet  and  unassuming.  He  shrinks  from  pub- 
5 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

licity,  and  prefers  the  society  of  his  intimate 
friends  to  the  hubbub  attendant  upon  a  politi 
cal  career.  He  has  fixed  convictions,  and  cares 
nothing  for  the  plaudits  of  the  multitude.  He 
is  said  to  be  a  loyal  ally  and  a  sleepless  en 
emy.  In  1870  he  married  Miss  Mary  Stone 
at  Denver,  and  one  child,  George  M.,  born  in 
1872,  is  the  fruit  of  this  union." 

Now  it  may  be  proved  easily  that  Joab  T. 
Barton  owned  this  book,  this  room,  this  house, 
and  this  lawn.  For  all  practical  purposes 
he  owned  the  soul  of  Brookdale  Park,  and 
there  were  five  ably  edited  newspapers  in 
the  city  which  insisted  that  Joab  T.  Barton 
might  as  well  have  a  warranty  deed  to  the 
city,  and  there  were  two  hundred  thousand 
people  who  were  supposed  to  go  to  bed  at 
night  in  the  belief  that  when  they  got  up  in 
the  morning  they  might  find  that  "  Old 
Joab,"  as  they  called  him,  had  dug  up  and 
carted  away  the  Missouri  River.  For  Barton 
was  the  town  bogy-man. 

People  blamed  him  for  every  evil  thing  that 
happened  in  the  community.  If  a  bank  failed, 
they  said  Old  Joab  wrecked  it.  If  a  street-car 
killed  a  man,  Old  Joab  was  committing  his 
daily  homicide.  If  men  couldn't  pay  their 
0 


THE   MAN   ON   HOESEBACK 

bills  at  the  end  of  the  month,  they  laid  their 
failures  to  Old  Joab's  extortionate  charges  for 
light  and  water.  At  different  times  he  had 
been  called  an  octopus,  an  incubus,  a  vampire, 
and  a  hydra-headed  monster. 

As  for  Mrs.  Barton  (she  that  was  Mary 
Stone)  she  never  read  the  papers,  even  though 
her  husband  bought  one — type,  presses,  editor 
and  all — that  the  family  might  enjoy  the  news 
of  the  day  without  wading  through  columns 
filled  with  abuse  of  the  head  of  the  household. 
Under  the  circumstances,  the  purchase  of  the 
newspaper  was  a  wanton  waste  of  money,  for 
young  George  M.  Barton  read  all  the  other 
papers  at  the  club,  and  enjoyed  the  remarks 
about  his  father  immensely.  The  young  man 
did  not  take  his  father  seriously.  Young  Bar 
ton  played  chess  in  the  middle  of  the  day  and 
refused  to  go  to  meetings  of  directors  where 
he  didn't  know  the  rules  of  the  game,  and 
often  renigged  and  did  other  embarrassiDg 
things.  He  drank  some  hot,  rebellious  liquor, 
but  not  too  much,  and  winked  pleasantly  at 
policemen  who  had  been  of  service  to  him. 
He  knew  the  names  of  the  street-car  conduc 
tors  and  the  elevator-boys  with  whom  he  rode, 
and  if  he  went  to  the  boiler-makers'  ball,  he 
7 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

didn't  conceal  it  from  the  patronesses  of  the 
dances  given  by  the  Colonial  Dames.  He  was 
rated  as  a  good  fellow  by  those  who  knew 
him,  and  by  his  father's  friends  he  was  ac 
counted  worthless,  but  not  a  spendthrift.  The 
elder  Barton  seemed  to  be  concealing  an 
expression  of  unspeakable  fatigue  whenever 
the  boy  came  into  his  office,  or  whenever  the 
youth's  name  was  mentioned  there. 

Joab  T.  Barton  had  long  since  ceased  to  be 
surprised  at  anything  that  his  son  might  say 
or  do  ;  and  yet  when  he  saw  his  son  wearing 
a  Civic  Federation  button,  and  met  his  name 
in  the  list  of  members  of  the  Committee  of 
Safety,  the  father  was  irritated.  For  the 
Committee  of  Safety  was  at  that  time  en 
gaged  in  prosecuting,  for  election  frauds, 
some  gentlemen  whom,  for  good  and  sufficient 
reasons,  Joab  T.  Barton  had  seen  fit  to  take 
into  the  employ  of  the  West  Side  Electric 
Railway.  Apparently  the  Civic  Federation 
was  organized  under  a  charter  to  make  Joab 
T.  Barton's  life  a  burden.  When  the  boy 
went  into  it  the  Federation  was  giving  life  to 
a  movement  which  demanded  that  Barton  pay 
the  city  for  the  renewal  of  his  expiring  street 
railway  franchise — a  demand  which  Barton 
8 


frankly  called  robbery;  for  he  had  already  paid 
the  election  expenses  of  a  majority  of  the  coun- 
cilmen  and  the  mayor  and  the  city  counsellor, 
and  he  considered  enough  enough.  Two  bills 
were  before  the  council  for  consideration  at 
the  time  young  Barton  donned  the  Federa 
tion  button ;  one,  known  as  the  Barton  bill, 
merely  extended  a  twenty  years'  franchise  to 
the  "West  Side  Electric  Railway.  The  other, 
known  as  the  Federation  bill,  granted  the 
extended  franchise,  but  required  Barton  to 
provide  transfer  privileges,  three-cent  fares 
to  school-children,  and  to  pay  to  the  City 
Library  Fund  one  per  cent,  of  the  company's 
earnings  after  the  earnings  reached  ten  per 
cent.  Public  feeling  was  at  a  boiling-point. 
Open  charges  of  official  corruption  were  being 
made.  The  newspapers  were  indulging  in 
bitter  editorials  with  nonpariel  slugs  between 
the  lines.  And  George  Barton  suavely  wore 
his  blue  and  white  Federation  button,  and 
referred  to  his  father  jocularly  as  "  the  Op 
pressor  of  the  Poor." 

Young  George  Barton  considered  his  mem 
bership  in  the  Federation  a  joke.     He  found 
the  Federation  at  his  club,  with  the  occasional 
cocktail   and  the  billiard-cue,  and  took  the 
9 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Federation  with  the  other  things,  because 
they  were  easier  to  embrace  than  to  avoid. 
He  gave  it  about  as  much  thought  as  he  gave 
to  the  affair  with  Mrs.  Kelsey  at  Manitou. 
Mrs.  Kelsey  was  a  blondined  lady,  who  drove 
bobtailed  horses  in  silver-mounted  harness 
hitched  to  outlandish  rigs.  George  had  met 
her  somewhat  informally  before  she  found 
Kelsey.  At  Manitou,  with  a  maid  and  a 
nurse  for  her  two  overdressed  children,  Mrs. 
Kelsey  was  the  queen  of  something  like  one 
hundred  linear  feet  of  veranda  at  the  barny 
summer  hotel.  The  affair  between  the  youth 
and  "  our  lady  of  the  sawdust,"  as  George 
was  wont  to  call  her,  was  really  trivial.  A 
handsome  young  man  with  unlimited  credit  is 
a  decorative  appurtenance  to  a  high  yellow 
and  black  English  cart.  And  when  the  owner 
of  the  cart  puts  just  a  little  too  much  pad 
ding — not  much  too  much,  but  just  a  little 
too  much — on  her  hips  and  at  her  bust,  and 
lays  one  thin  hair-line  too  much  of  black  on  her 
eyebrows  and  under  her  eyes — and  when  the 
lady  after  doing  these  things  adds  three  un 
necessary  carats  to  the  weight  of  her  diamond 
earrings,  she  may  ornament  her  equipage  with 
a  young  man  a  trifle  too  youthful  and  a 
10 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

trifle  too  careless  of  the  amenities,  even  if  she 
does  have  to  pay  the  price.  But  at  a  summer- 
resort  the  price  of  these  things  is  not  so  high 
as  it  is  elsewhere  in  the  world ;  so  Mrs.  Kel- 
sey  paid  it ;  and  as  for  George  Barton,  he 
sent  the  account  home  to  his  parents.  His 
father's  estimate  of  the  importance  of  the 
affair  was  gathered  from  the  size  of  the 
florist's  bill.  It  was  under  two  hundred  dol 
lars,  and  the  father  was  not  disturbed.  But 
when  the  Manitou  gossip  filtered  into  her 
home,  George's  mother  went  to  bed  and  re 
mained  there  a  week  in  rage  and  humiliation. 
After  that  Mrs.  Barton  carried  with  her  a 
hatred  for  Mrs.  Kelsey  and  a  fear  of  her  that 
distinguished  Mrs.  Kelsey  from  the  throng  of 
strangers  beyond  the  pale,  and  brought  her 
into  the  circle  of  Mrs.  Barton's  intimate 
enemies.  Barton  and  Jim  Kelsey  had  been 
friends  for  ten  years.  Kelsey  had  been  a  sec 
tion  boss  on  the  Corn  Belt,  and  had  pros 
pered  after  constructing  two  or  three  branch 
lines  for  the  system  in  the  eighties.  Later  he 
had  moved  to  the  city,  and  had  turned  a  more 
or  less  honest  penny  in  cedar  block  paving  ; 
still  later  he  went  into  asphalt  paving  and 
kept  in  the  State  Senate  and  in  the  city  coun- 
11 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

cil  half  a  dozen  foremen,  a  superintendent, 
and  friends  innumerable  who  acted  with  Bar 
ton's  friends  in  the  Legislature.  If  Barton's 
son  wished  to  be  pleasant  to  Jim  Kelsey's 
new  wife  and  Tom  Hubbard's  children,  Joab  T. 
Barton  saw  no  reason  for  a  demonstration  of 
grief,  if  Jim  did  not  complain.  But  Mrs.  Bar 
ton  gave  more  importance  than  her  husband 
to  Mrs.  Kelsey's  social  impossibility,  and 
since  George  Barton's  return  from  Manitou, 
Mrs.  Barton  had  felt  an  uneasiness  lest  the 
idle  hours  the  boy  spent  with  Mrs.  Kelsey 
should  affect  the  family's  status  in  society. 
Yet  so  long  as  Mrs.  Barton  had  the  gray  stone 
castle  in  Brookdale  Park,  the  command  of 
the  income  from  a  fortune  that  piled  into  the 
teens  among  the  millions,  and  so  long  as  she 
had  the  advantage  of  having  entered  the  por 
tals  of  the  town's  aristocracy,  just  before  the 
boom  widened  the  threshold,  she  was  firmly 
established.  This  fact  of  her  absolute  social 
security  was  one  of  the  many  important 
things  that  Mrs.  Barton  did  not  know. 
Bright-eyed,  fluffy-haired  Mrs.  Kelsey,  who 
had  struggled  bravely  for  several  years  to 
keep  the  gentlemen  of  her  acquaintance  from 
saying  "Hello"  to  her  on  the  street,  was 
12 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

shrewd  enough  to  know  what  Mrs.  Joab  Bar 
ton  did  not  know — that  to  land  and  to  have 
money  to  bank  up  and  keep  the  tide  back  was 
to  have  her  feet  upon  a  rock.  Mrs.  Barton 
always  harbored  a  fear  that  she  would  betray 
the  fact  of  her  humble  origin.  Her  mother 
once  presided  at  the  lunch-counter  in  Sharon 
Springs,  and  her  father  used  to  work  on  the 
cinder-pit  at  the  round-house ;  and  although 
the  family  came  up  in  the  world  so  rapidly 
that  the  child  wore  silk  dresses  before  she 
was  sixteen,  her  girlhood  was  spent  in  a 
family  where  nothing  was  thought  of  leaving 
the  soap  in  the  water  or  of  sweeping  dirt 
under  the  cupboard.  So  existence  with  Mrs. 
Barton  was  a  constant  struggle  against 
reversion  to  type.  In  her  twenties  and 
thirties  she  wore  the  longest  possible  seal 
skins  and  the  most  dazzling  jewels.  In  her 
forties  she  built  the  castle  in  Brookdale  Park 
and  covered  it  with  towers,  swelling  bal 
conies,  bulging  windows  and  ginger-bread 
confections  of  architecture,  until  the  house 
seemed  inflated  with  sinful  pride  to  the 
bursting-point. 

The  year  before  the  Manitou  incident  ruf 
fled  her,  Mrs.  Barton  had  begun  to  find  solace 
13 


STRATAGEMS    AXD    SPOILS 

in  severe  simplicity.  She  came  to  worship 
austerity  as  madly  and  as  abjectly  as  she  had 
worshipped  flash  and  show.  Thereafter  the 
footman  went  in  black,  the  silver  came  off  the 
harness,  the  front  of  the  house  was  straight 
ened.  The  towers  were  scraped  away;  the 
debris  of  bric-a-brac  was  swept  out  of  the 
halls  and  reception-rooms,  and  life  became  a 
serious  business  to  her.  Yet  eight  years  be 
fore  she  had  beamed  with  joy  when  the  news 
papers  printed  her  name  among  the  patron 
esses  of  the  Harvard  Glee  Club's  annual 
entertainment.  She  had  been  reading  the 
society  columns  of  that  paper  every  Sunday 
for  years,  familiarizing  herself  with  the  im 
portant  names,  and  when  she  saw  the  excel 
lent  company  she  was  in  as  a  patroness,  Mrs. 
Barton  was  sure  for  the  first  time  that  she  had 
arrived.  But  she  knew  how  thin  her  veneer 
was  and  she  always  feared  it  would  crack  and 
show  the  truth. 

It  was  a  vain  house,  an  arrogant  house,  was 
this  house  of  Barton.  It  stood  amid  the  tur 
moil  and  the  hubbub  of  a  bitter  contest  with 
the  people,  when  calamity  fell  and  brought 
mourning  with  it.  The  news  of  George  Bar 
ton's  sudden  death  appearing  on  the  first  page 
14 


THE   MAN    ON    HORSEBACK 

of  the  morning  papers,  under  one  of  the  four 
flash-heads  that  greeted  the  reader's  eyes, 
brought  a  shock  with  it.  For  the  very  papers 
which  contained  the  news  of  the  death  crowd 
ed  the  account  of  it  down  to  half  a  column,  in 
order  to  print  fiery  communications  from  lead 
ing  citizens  and  tax-payers,  protesting  against 
the  passage  of  the  Barton  bill.  The  council 
was  to  cast  its  final  vote  in  the  matter  on  the 
evening  of  the  next  day.  In  their  newspaper 
protests  the  citizens  took  for  granted  that  the 
council  would  stand  by  Joab  T.  Barton  in  the 
street-railway  matter,  as  the  council  had  pro 
tected  him  in  the  water-works  bond  proposi 
tion,  in  his  gas  and  electric  lighting  schemes, 
in  his  river-front  right-of-way  grab,  and  in  all 
the  matters  wherein  the  wrelfare  of  the  people 
and  the  interests  of  Joab  T.  Barton  had  stood 
in  opposition. 

Therefore  the  town  did  not  mourn  with  the 
Bartons.  When  death  came  to  them  and 
smote  them  dumb  the  town  forgot  them.  The 
mourning  in  the  town  was  for  the  young  life 
that  was  cut  off;  for  the  smile  that  was  chilled ; 
for  the  boyish  heart  that  was  still ;  for  the  loss 
of  the  warm  hand's  clasp,  and  the  eternal  si 
lence  of  a  cheery  voice.  But  for  the  living — 
15 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

for  old  Joab  and  his  proud  wife — the  world 
forgot  that  they  were  coming  through  the 
great  shadow,  where  the  high  and  the  lowly, 
the  worldly  and  the  righteous,  the  saints  and 
those  who  are  unclean,  grope  and  stretch  out 
their  hands,  and  where  all  are  kith  and  kin  in 
the  Democracy  of  Despair.  But  over  the  great 
house  in  Brookdale  Park  there  hung  a  dread 
ful  silence.  Now  and  again  the  creak  of  a 
door  would  shatter  it ;  the  thud  of  a  booted 
foot  upon  a  heavy  hall-rug  told  of  the  florist's 
invasion.  The  daylight  darted  impertinently 
through  the  hush  of  the  darkened  rooms;  the 
master  of  the  house,  alone  in  the  library,  could 
feel  rather  than  hear  the  servants  gliding  by 
his  door.  The  whispering  of  visitors  in  the 
hall  below  sounded  to  Barton  like  an  agita 
tion  in  some  cave  of  bats.  He  sat  in  a  leather 
chair  for  hours,  staring  at  the  frescoed  pattern 
on  the  ceiling.  By  mid-day  his  nerves  had 
set  him  walking.  For  a  time  he  paced  the 
room  ;  tiring  of  it,  he  wrent  down  the  stairs 
and  slipped  past  the  parlor,  and  the  neigh 
bors  saw  the  gray-clad  human  pendulum 
swing  for  two  hours  from  end  to  end  of  the 
long  veranda.  An  instinct  for  work  nagged 
at  Joab  Barton,  and  the  instinct  brought  the 
16 


bitter  knowledge  that  the  incentive  for  work 
was  gone.  The  day  before  he  would  not  have 
owned  that  all  his  labor  was  for  his  son ;  but 
as  the  father  walked  his  weary  round  that  day 
there  came  a  mighty  press  of  grief  upon  him 
and  he  was  sick — sick  in  the  very  flesh — 
at  the  stress  of  it.  In  that  hour  it  was  not 
the  loss  of  one  whom  he  loved  that  lashed  his 
spirit ;  perhaps  it  was  pride,  perhaps  it  was 
the  uprooting  of  the  unspoken  hopes  that  nat 
ure  plants  and  nourishes  in  the  breasts  of  fa 
thers,  though  they  know  it  not ;  perhaps  it 
was  the  smarting  of  the  blow  that  death  deals 
to  those  near  the  swath  of  the  sickle ;  perhaps 
it  was — God  knows  what.  But  some  mighty 
force  came  to  the  father  there  and  he  wrestled 
with  a  growing  impulse  which  he  put  from 
him,  when  it  first  came.  But  as  the  shadows 
lengthened  upon  the  lawn,  all  his  sinews 
seemed  to  be  pulling  against  his  iron  will. 
Time  and  again  he  passed  the  closed  door  of 
the  parlor  and  beat  off  the  impulse  to  enter 
the  silent  room  and  throw  himself  beside  the 
body  and  let  loose  the  throbbing  tide  of  sor 
row  that  pulsed  within  him.  His  sense  of 
loneliness  had  been  growing  as  he  faced  his 
future,  and  realized  its  emptiness ;  and,  as  he 
17 


looked  back  and  measured  the  brief  span  of 
years  that  had  enclosed  the  boy's  short  life, 
this  sense  of  loneliness  grew  deeper  and  deep 
er,  tearing  into  the  core  of  his  soul.  The 
sunlight  of  the  day  in  which  he  had  been 
walking  burned  him  like  a  fire,  at  the  con 
stantly  recurring  thought  that  the  boy  had 
passed  forever  out  of  it  and  out  of  all  that  was 
quickening  in  the  world.  Every  sense  lashed 
him  to  a  madness,  and  when  the  loneliness 
became  utter,  when  from  the  abyss  of  his  fut 
ure  a  great  black  cloud  rose  and  enveloped 
him,  Joab  Barton  entered  the  hall  and  tiptoed 
to  the  parlor-door  as  one  ashamed.  He  turned 
the  knob  of  the  door  softly  and  went  in,  his 
frame  convulsing  with  grief.  The  stifling 
odor  of  the  room  choked  him.  He  paused 
till  his  eyes  adjusted  themselves  to  the  semi- 
darkness.  He  saw  that  the  room  was  a  veri 
table  mass  of  lilies.  Everywhere  the  white 
ness  of  the  flowers  beat  upon  him  and  the 
artificiality  of  the  place,  the  ostentation  of  the 
garish  spectacle  which  money  had  made, 
mocked  the  anguish  that  had  led  him  to  the 
room.  His  eyes,  revolting  from  the  ghastly 
flowers,  fell  upon  the  dead  boy's  face.  Bar 
ton  lifted  his  arms  high  above  his  head  in  a 

18 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

spasm  of  anguish,  and  groaned  as  he  turned 
away — his  sorrow  unspent,  his  soul  unsatis 
fied.  The  hatred  of  all  the  world  and  its  af 
fairs  burned  his  vitals  like  an  adder's  sting. 
After  the  impotent  spasm  of  his  passion  had 
gone,  Barton  stood  in  the  darkened  room  a 
long  time  with  his  fingers  locked  behind 
him. 

Again  and  again  the  sight  and  the  odor  of 
the  flowers  nauseated  him.  A  loathing  of 
everything  his  money  had  brought  came 
upon  him,  and  following  that  came  a  doubt 
that  his  own  life  had  been  spent  wisely.  He 
stood  by  the  coffin  for  many  minutes.  And 
then  he  passed  an  hour  walking  beside  the 
form  among  the  flowers.  In  that  hour  the 
busy  years  of  his  life  went  by  in  review.  A 
strange  psychological  disorder  was  upon  him, 
and  whatever  period  in  his  life  he  tried  to  re 
call,  whatever  deed  he  dwelt  upon,  whatever 
point  of  his  career  he  examined,  the  lapping 
of  waters — sweet  and  sybillant,  upon  a  skiff- 
side — broke  in  upon  his  reverie  and  brought 
him  back  to  the  days  of  his  youth — to  the 
days  when  he  lived  out  of  doors  and  tramped 
in  fields  and  through  grassy  meadows ;  when 
he  was  brother  to  all  the  gentle-folk  of  vood 
19 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

and  stream.  And  so  it  fell  out  that  by  de 
grees  Joab  Barton's  heart  understood  the 
heart  of  his  son,  and  he  saw  the  good  that  was 
in  the  life  that  had  passed.  With  his  widened 
understanding  came  a  warm  love  for  the  boy, 
and  then  with  the  whisper  of  the  water  still 
in  his  ears,  the  father  gave  up  a  pride  in  his 
own  achievements.  He  was  inspired  to  do 
some  fine  act  of  charity  to  perpetuate  the 
dead  boy's  name.  It  seemed  to  Barton  that 
he  was  but  doing  for  the  boy  that  which  death 
had  robbed  the  boy  of  the  time  and  oppor 
tunity  to  do  for  himself.  This  brought  peace 
to  the  father,  and  he  hugged  the  inspiration 
fondly.  The  waters  ceased  lapping  then,  and 
Barton  walked  out  into  the  light  of  the  wan 
ing  day  with  a  mellow  heart,  almost  rejoicing 
as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race.  His  trans 
formation  seemed  as  wonderful  to  him  as  that 
which  befell  Aaron's  rod. 

He  went  to  the  library,  and  before  he  took 
his  chair  he  saw  Lawton,  the  attorney  for  his 
street  railway  system,  coming  up  the  curved 
stone  path  to  the  house.  Barton  guessed  his 
mission.  He  felt  that  it  concerned  the  mat 
ters  pending  in  the  city  council.  When  Law- 
ton  came  into  the  room  Barton  was  sitting 
20 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

listlessly,  looking  at  the  floor.  He  did  not 
rise.  After  a  few  formal  words  the  attorney 
broke  the  ice. 

"  Mr.  Barton,  things  are  going  to  pieces 
downtown.  The  council's  against  us." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  returned  Barton,  not  lift 
ing  his  head. 

"Jim  Kelsey's  flown  the  coop  with  his 
seven  men,  and  that's  got  the  mayor  scared ; 
and  the  fellows  who  are  under  obligations  to 
us  are  getting  panicky.  They  want  some  as 
surance  that  we're  going  to  win,  or  they'll 
pull  out.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  ?  "  There 
was  a  question  in  the  last  sentence.  Barton 
answered  it  with  a  sigh  as  he  put  his  head  on 
his  hand. 

"Well,  I  don't,  either." 

Lawton  was  clearly  absorbed  in  the  fight. 
Yet  he  did  not  wish  to  intrude  too  grossly 
upon  Barton's  sorrow.  There  was  a  pause. 
When  Lawton  saw  that  Barton  was  not  going 
to  break  it,  the  attorney  ventured  : 

"  Kelsey's  the  key ;  get  him  back  and 
you're  all  right." 

"  What  ails  Jim  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,  Mr.  Barton  ; 
he's  wearing  a  Federation  button  to-day,  and 
21 


STRATAGEMS    AXD    SPOILS 

the  fellows  say  he's  been  consorting  with  the 
Truly  Good  and  his  gang  for  a  mouth  on  the 
quiet.  I  had  a  talk  with  him  this  morning, 
but  he  began  telling  me  about  what  the  peo 
ple  demand,  and  the  people's  rights,  and  the 
need  of  your  friends  getting  you  down  next 
to  the  grass  roots.  I  asked  him  who'd  put 
up  for  him  and  left  him." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Barton,  turn 
ing  his  heavy  eyes  toward  Lawton. 

"  Mr.  Barton,  suppose  you  have  a  talk  with 
Jim,  you  understand  him." 

This  closed  a  deep  silence. 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  does,"  sighed  Bar 
ton. 

But  Lawton  persisted,  telling  Barton  that 
the  fight  had  gone  so  far  that  many  of  Barton's 
friends  had  cast  their  fortunes  with  him  for 
success,  and  urging  him  to  make  some  effort 
in  their  behalf.  The  result  of  the  conference 
was  this  :  That  Barton,  weary  of  the  persist 
ence  of  his  lawyer,  and  to  be  rid  of  the  man 
for  the  hour,  consented  to  see  James  Kelsey 
that  evening. 

Twilight  was  falling  when  Kelsey  entered 
the  Barton  house.  Kelsey  was  a  large  man. 
He  bumped  into  the  furniture  of  the  lower 
22 


hall,  and  his  voice  dropped  into  a  whisper 
that  penetrated  the  quiet  rooms  like  the  hiss 
of  escaping  steam.  Ascending  he  thumped 
each  foot  twice  on  every  stair,  once  with  his 
heel,  once  with  his  toe.  That  was  because  he 
tried  to  walk  slowly,  out  of  respect  for  the 
family's  sorrow.  Barton,  still  sitting  by  his 
desk  where  the  attorney  had  left  him,  heard 
Kelsey  at  the  door,  and  querulously  cried 
"Come  in!" 

Kelsey  entered  the  room  ready  for  a 
struggle  with  Barton.  The  contractor  had 
deliberately  broken  a  ten-years  alliance.  He 
was  prepared  to  hear  a  number  of  disagree 
able  things.  Barton  turned  his  face  from  his 
old  ally  and  said,  with  a  long  breath  : 

"  Sit  down,  Jim." 

From  a  seat  by  the  window  Kelsey,  who 
had  struck  a  match,  began  his  charge  with : 
"Don't  object  to  smokin',  do  you?"  This 
came  from  between  teeth  that  were  biting  a 
cigar.  Kelsey  was  leaning  well  back  in  a 
deep  chair  and  added  : 

"I'm    awfully    sorry,   Mr.    Barton,  about 

George.     He  was  a  terrible  good  boy.     My 

wife  was  tellin'  me  to-day  how  good  he  was 

to  her  at  Manitou  last  summer.     She  said  he 

23 


STRATAGEMS    AND   SPOILS 

was  the  best-hearted  boy  she'd  ever  saw. 
Well,  it's  the  way  of  the  world,  I  guess." 

Barton  made  no  reply.  He  walked  to  a 
window.  The  mantel-clock  ticked  ten  minutes 
before  Barton  came  back  to  his  desk  and 
rested  his  head  on  his  hand.  He  began  jab 
bing  his  pen  in  a  glass  of  shot,  not  looking  at 
Kelsey.  Kelsey  wished  to  be  polite.  He 
waited  the  first  five  of  the  ten  minutes  to  give 
Barton  the  advantage  of  opening  the  contro 
versy.  During  the  last  three  minutes  Kelsey 
began  to  suspect  that  Barton  was  planning 
some  vicious  trick,  and  that  the  silence  was  a 
part  of  a  plan  to  outwit  him.  He  decided 
to  take  the  bit  in  his  teeth. 

"  Well,  sir,  they  sent  me  out  to  see  you — 
what  is  it?" 

Barton  kept  on  trifling  with  the  pen  and 
the  shot-glass,  apparently  giving  his  undi 
vided  thought  to  it,  and  replied : 

"  So  they  sent  you  out,  did  they  ?  " 

"They  said  you  wanted  to  talk  over  the 
West  Side  Franchise  business  with  me." 

"  So  that's  what  you  came  for,  is  it?  " 

"  It  is."  Kelsey  was  braced  for  the  crisis. 
He  crossed  his  legs  and  clasped  his  hands 
over  a  knee.  Barton  put  down  his  pen.  He 
24 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

let  his  eyes  wander  idly  over  his  desk  and 
said: 

"All  right  then— talk!" 

No  word  was  emphasized. 

"  "Well,  what  shall  I  say  ?  Do  you  want  to 
know  what  I  think  of  this  business  ?  " 

Barton  nodded  a  weary  head.  His  eyes 
were  not  lifted.  Kelsey  rose,  walked  to  a 
smouldering  grate-fire  and  punched  it.  He 
faced  Barton  and  spoke  : 

"  Lookee  here,  Barton,  me  and  you's  been 
together  in  a  lot  of  things  for  ten  years.  I've 
been  a  friend  of  yours  and  I  am  now.  See 
here — what  you  need  is  someone  to  tell  you 
the  truth.  The  fellows  in  your  office  slop 
over  you  and  lie  to  you.  I  won't.  You've 
got  to  get  down  to  the  grass  roots.  Excuse 
me  for  sayin'  it  at  such  a  time  as  this — but 
what  you  want  to  do  is  to  get  right  with  the 
people.  They  think  you're  an  old  hog.  They 
say  that  you  want  the  earth  with  a  fence 
around  it  and  the  taxes  paid.  And  this  fran 
chise  proposition  of  yours  has  got  'em  wild." 

"  Well  let  'em  get  wild  and  stay  wild,"  re 
plied  Barton.  His  tone  was  dead,  but  he 
lifted  his  eyes  to  his  companion's. 

"  That's  all  right  to  say,  Joab  Barton,  but 
25 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

the  people  are  after  you  now  in  earnest.  And 
they're  goin'  to  get  you.  More  than  that, 
they're  goin'  to  rip  every  man  up  the  back 
who  stands  with  you.  They're  out  for  blood, 
and  you  better  pick  your  tree ;  I  did.  Had 
to.  You  wouldn't  blame  me  if  you  knew  how 
things  are  going  down  town  this  week." 

Barton's  eyes  were  staring  keenly  at  Kelsey. 
Barton  spoke  mechanically.  "  Pull  'er  wide 
open,  old  man.  Straight  track  ahead." 

"Now,  I  suppose  you're  mad.  All  right, 
get  mad.  But  I'm  right  here  to  tell  you  it'll 
be  the  costliest  thing  you  ever  got.  This 
franchise  ordinance  will  be  beaten.  That's 
dead  open  and  shut.  And  it's  the  first  thing 
you've  lost  in  ten  years.  If  they  down  you 
now,  the  whole  kit  and  boodle  will  quit  you ; 
and  you  won't  amount  to  more'n  a  feather 
fan  in  a  cyclone.  The  people  want  to  look 
at  the  books  of  this  county  anyway ;  and  if 
you  don't  meet  'em  half  way  in  this  you're 
a  busted  community,  politically — or  I'm  a 
goat." 

Barton  looked  up  quickly  and  prefaced  his 
remarks  with  a  little  nervous  cough  that  he 
used  when  about  to  enter  an  important  dis 
cussion. 

26 


THE   MAN   ON    HORSEBACK 

"  Well,  say,  Jim,  what  do  they  want  ?  How 
would  you  go  at  it  to  get  them?  " 

After  the  answer  came,  Barton  beat  spirit 
edly  on  his  table  with  his  wiry  fingers,  and 
said : 

"  Well,  Jim,  you  could  just  as  well  have 
the  $100,000  that  I  lose  in  ten  years  on  your 
compromise,  yourself !  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Barton.  But  I'm  like 
old  Tom  Wharton ;  I've  got  money  enough 
to  afford  the  luxury  of  being  honest.  But 
that  ain't  the  point.  I  can't  go  into  this 
thing — now  honest.  As  I  was  tellin'  my  wife 
this  mornin',  if  a  fellow  amounts  to  anything 
in  this  man's  town,  he's  got  to  get  in  with  the 
best  people.  They're  agin  you,  Joab — dead 
set  agin  you.  That's  the  point.  And  what's 
more,  they  really  cut  the  ice." 

Barton  could  see  even  a  small  straw  then. 
He  grabbed  it. 

"  Your  wife  agrees  with  you  ?  " 

"  You're  mighty  right  she  agrees  with  me, 
and  I'd  take  her  judgment  before  I  would  any 
man's  in  this  town."  Kelsey  knocked  the 
ashes  from  his  cigar  and  put  it  back  at  a  re 
flective  angle  in  his  mouth,  and  added,  as  he 
threw  a  leg  over  the  arm  of  his  chair :  "  I've 
27 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

got  money  enough  now  to  put  her  right  in  the 
best  society  in  this  town.  But  she  don't  care 
a  cent  for  it ;  throws  'em  all  down.  What 
she's  after  is  this  cold-nosed  Brookdale  out 
fit  ;  they  make  me  hurt,  but  if  she  wants  'em 
they're  hers.  And  she  knows  and  I  know  and 
you  know,  that  it's  Katy  bar  the  door  if  Jim 
Kelsey  isn't  as  straight  as  a  string.  And 
what's  more,  the  people  are  with  this  outfit 
and  it's  the  only  way  you  can  win.  You 
can't  beat  the  people  ;  they've  got  the  votes. 
And  now's  the  time  for  you  to  get  right,  Joab 
T.  Barton,  or  the  devil  will  be  to  pay  and  the 
note  past  due."  Kelsey's  eyes  twinkled  as  he 
finished  speaking ;  for  the  Irish  are  never  so 
merry  as  when  they  are  dealing  their  hardest 
blows.  There  was  no  shadow  of  yielding  in 
Kelsey's  eyes. 

Kelsey's  words  served  only  to  awaken  a 
fighting  devil  in  Barton's  heart  that  had  held 
domain  there  for  thirty  years.  It  was  a 
shrewd,  merciless  devil  that  loved  a  fight  for 
the  sake  of  winning,  and  it  had  been  the 
motor  that  had  pushed  Joab  T.  Barton  the 
whole  way  along  his  road  to  riches  and  power. 
This  devil  had  been  watching  Kelsey  from  the 
moment  he  entered  Barton's  room,  even  when 
28 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

the  stricken  father  loathed  the  world  of  affairs. 
This  under-consciousness  must  have  seen  that 
Kelsey,  who  for  years  had  been  loyal  to  Bar 
ton,  was  moving  by  some  new  and  unknown 
lever.  Slowly  as  the  habit  of  a  lifetime  took 
possession  of  Barton,  his  sub-conscious  reason 
ing  merged  into  the  conscious,  and  he  was  as 
alert  as  a  tiger.  Barton's  mind  worked  in 
vivid,  heat-lightning  flashes  of  intuition.  In 
one  of  these  illumined  seconds  he  suspected 
that  Kelsey's  new  wife  was  his  lever.  The 
reply  to  his  question  about  her  agreement 
with  her  husband  convinced  Barton.  When 
Kelsey  had  ceased  speaking,  Barton  rose  lan 
guidly,  stretched  himself,  walked  over  to  Kel 
sey  and  began  purring : 

"  Oh,  well,  Jim,  don't  take  it  so  hard ;  you're 
all  right.  Go  on  down  town  and  tell  the  fel 
lows  not  to  get  too  far  away  from  me.  I'll 
be  decent  enough,  Jim.  But  I  can't  talk  it 
over  now."  Barton  said  these  last  words  in 
tentionally,  and  even  while  he  spoke  a  stun 
ning  blow  fell  upon  him  as  his  grief  came  back 
to  him.  He  did  not  wince,  but  went  on — 
"  Women  are  pretty  smart,  Jim,  smarter  than 
we  are  at  times.  Your  wife  may  be  right — I 
don't  know,  I  don't  know." 
29 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

He  had  managed,  by  that  indescribable  pan 
tomime  that  one  uses  to  dismiss  a  guest,  to 
get  Kelsey  on  his  feet  and  near  the  door  as 
the  sentence  closed.  A  few  formal  words  end 
ed  the  meeting. 

Barton  walked  to  the  grate  and  jabbed  the 
fire  until  it  blazed.  He  stood  in  the  flare  of 
light  for  two  or  three  minutes,  with  two  per 
pendicular  ridges  cut  in  his  brow.  He  was 
taking  mental  invoice  of  Mrs.  Kelsey.  He  re 
called  mechanically  how  all  the  men  in  the  of 
fice  had  sniffed  the  year  before,  when  she  had 
married  Kelsey.  Barton  remembered  that 
many  intangible  things  had  been  left  unsaid 
about  her.  He  peered  intently  into  the  im 
age  of  her  face  as  he  remembered  seeing  it 
upon  the  street.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  never  met  her  at  an  evening  gathering ; 
he  saw  that  she  was  not  in  society,  and  de 
ducing  from  Kelsey's  words  about  her,  he  con 
cluded  that  she  was  forcing  Kelsey  into  the 
respectability  of  the  Civic  Federation  to  pave 
her  way  to  social  recognition.  When  Barton 
went  over  the  ground  again,  and  felt  sure  of 
his  woman  and  of  the  force  that  was  leading 
her,  he  stepped  to  the  telephone  and  asked 
her  to  come  to  his  house  that  evening.  It 


THE    MAN    OX    HORSEBACK 

•was  Barton's  habit  to  strike  like  a  thunder 
bolt. 

It  was  not  anxiety  lest  she  should  fail  him 
that  set  Barton  tearing  papers  on  his  desk  to 
bits,  while  he  waited.  It  was  the  chilling  sense 
of  anguish  which  he  was  strangling.  This 
racked  his  nerves,  but  as  he  sat  before  the 
sinking  fire,  his  sorrow  was  numbed  by  the 
spirit  of  combat  that  was  grappling  him  body 
and  soul.  And  the  hand  that  touched  the 
electric-light  button,  at  the  sound  of  a  woman's 
voice  in  the  hall,  was  of  iron.  Mrs.  Kelsey 
entered  in  a  whirlwind  of  invisible  silks.  She 
fluttered  across  the  room  to  Barton,  and  took 
his  hand  in  both  of  hers  and  held  it  for  nearly 
a  second,  sighing  before  she  spoke. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Barton,  how  do  you  do  ?  Tell 
me,  how  is  your  wife  ?  Poor,  poor  George !" 
Mrs.  Kelsey  caught  her  breath  on  something 
that  might  have  been  a  sob.  At  the  formal 
reply  she  continued: 

"You  know,  Mr.  Barton,  she  never  called 
on  me,  but,  in  times  like  this,  neighbors  can't 
stand  on  ceremony.  I'm  so  glad  you  sent  for 
me,  I  do  hope  I  can  do  something."  Barton 
found  a  chair  for  her.  "  Mr.  Barton,  I've  been 
trying  so  hard  to  keep  up  and  be  brave  all 
31 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

day.  But  you  are  his  father  and  you  will  un 
derstand,  when  I  tell  you  that  George  was  the 
noblest  boy  I  ever  knew — like  a  benediction  I 
used  to  think,  and  now—  "  A  bediamonded 
hand  held  her  lace  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  a 
moment.  She  straightened  up  presently  and 
said,  in  a  calm  voice  : 

"You  will  pardon  my  weakness,  I  know, 
Mr.  Barton.  I  came  thinking  I  might  help 
you  ;  that  I  might  do  something.  And  here  I 
am  only  making  it  harder  for  you." 

Barton  had  been  watching  her  out  of  eyes 
shaded  by  his  hand.  His  features  had  not 
moved  during  her  speech.  He  answered ,  "  Not 
at  all,  Mrs.  Kelsey,  not  at  all."  Then  he 
cleared  his  throat  and  said : 

"  It  was  of  another  matter  that  I  wished  to 
speak,  one  that  concerns  me  deeply.  I  want 
your  help.  It  is  in  the  "West  Side  Franchise 
business  that  comes  before  the  council  to-mor 
row  night." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Mrs.  Kelsey  with  the  sweet 
est  imaginable  bell-like  voice,  and  with  an  en 
ticing  rising  inflection. 

Barton  went  on  in  a  dry,  dead  intonation  : 
"  Yes,  Mrs.  Kelsey,  Jim's  against  me,  and  I 
want  your  help." 

82 


THE   MAN    ON   HORSEBACK 

"  Why  did  you  think  I  could  help  you,  Mr. 
Barton  ?  Mr.  Kelsey  never  comes  to  me  for 
advice  in  those  matters,  and  he's  not  a  mem 
ber  of  the  council,  either." 

Barton  caught  her  eye  and  held  it  till  it 
dropped. 

"  Mrs.  Kelsey,  you  are  making  a  mistake. 
Jim  can  cat's-paw  for  those  Civic  Federation 
fellows  all  he  pleases,  but  they  will  not  admit 
him  to  fellowship  with  them,  nor  will  their 
wives  know  you.  You're  on  the  wrong  track. 
I  can  help  you." 

Mrs.  Kelsey  leaned  forward,  put  her  elbow 
on  her  chair-arm  and  her  chin  in  her  hand. 
She  fixed  Barton  on  the  prongs  of  a  question 
ing  gaze.  She  was  trying  to  probe  him  to  see 
what  truth  was  there.  It  is  the  habit  of 
women  who  have  been  mistaken  often. 

"  Can't  we  have  an  understanding?"  asked 
Barton.  "  You  can  help  me,  and  my  wife  and 
I  can  do  more  in  two  months  to  get  you  what 
you  want,  than  the  Civic  Federation  will  do 
in  a  dozen  years.  Mrs.  Kelsey,  I'm  a  plain 
man.  I  always  speak  right  out.  Now  then, 
[the  little  cough  put  the  comma  in  here],  if 
you'll  see  that  Jim's  friends  in  the  council 
vote  for  my  Franchise  bill,  I'll  see  that  every 
33 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

house  in  Brookdale  Park  is  open  to  you  be 
fore  snow  falls.  I  give  you  my  word." 

Mrs.  Kelsey  did  not  take  her  eyes  from 
Barton's  face.  She  was  thinking.  The 
thought  uppermost  in  her  mind  was  that  the 
council  would  vote  the  following  evening,  and 
that  it  would  be  a  year  before  Mrs.  Barton 
could  come  out  of  mourning  to  fulfil  the  com 
pact.  Barton  divined  some  obstacle  like  this 
and  repeated : 

"  I  give  you  my  word,  Mrs.  Kelsey." 

To  Joab  T.  Barton  that  sentence  was  a 
solemn  obligation.  Even  those  who  hated 
him,  never  claimed  that  he  would  break  a 
promise  or  forget  it.  Mrs.  Kelsey  nodded  ab 
sently  and  said,  in  a  preoccupied  tone,  as  she 
went  on  searching  for  some  way  to  bind  the 
bargain  : 

"Yes,  I  know." 

The  answer  revealed  so  much  of  the 
woman's  past  to  Barton  that  he  would  have 
winced  if  he  had  been  of  flesh  and  blood. 
"  Well  ?  "  he  asked.  The  silence  continued. 
But  when  Barton  saw  Mrs.  Kelsey  moisten 
her  lips  and  heard  her  expel  the  faintest  lit 
tle  sigh,  he  knew  that  some  decision  had  been 
reached.  He  was  too  wise  to  put  another  in- 
34 


THE    MAX    ON    HORSEBACK 

terrogatiou.  Mrs.  Kelsey  dropped  her  eyes, 
and  put  the  ferrule  of  her  umbrella  on  her 
glossy  shoe-tip  and  began,  in  a  mellow  voice 
that  had  a  show  of  pathos  in  it : 

"  Mr.  Barton,  I'm  not  the  kind  of  a  woman 
you  have  taken  me  for.  I  can't  enter  into  a 
cold-blooded  deal  like  that.  I  love  to  do 
things  for  my  friends.  It  gives  me  pleasure 
to  help  them.  I  thought  the  world  of  George, 
Mr.  Barton.  I  would  have  done  anything  in 
the  world  for  him  that  a  mother  would  do.  He 
was  just  a  boy.  I  want  to  be  friends  with  his 
father  and  mother.  If  you  come  to  me  as  a 
friend  and  ask  this  that  you  do,  I'll  help  you. 
I  don't  want  any  reward — only  to  be  con 
sidered  your  friend." 

Barton  could  see  whither  she  was  drifting. 
The  President  of  the  West  Side  Electric  Rail 
way  Company  did  not  recoil  at  her  audacity, 
and  George  Barton's  father  was  dumb.  The 
President  of  the  West  Side  Railway  Company 
saw  only  the  great  game  that  had  been  almost 
lost,  now  almost  won.  The  lust  to  win  tingled 
through  his  veins.  He  filled  a  pause  with  : 

"  I  understand  exactly." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  she  inquired.  She  was  screAv- 
ing  her  courage  to  the  point.  To  be  accepted 
35 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

as  a  friend  of  the  Bartons  in  a  great  family 
crisis  like  this  would  put  Mrs.  Kelsey's  social 
status  beyond  question.  After  that,  she  be 
lieved  that  she  could  take  care  of  herself. 

"  I  knew  you  would  understand  when  I 
told  you.  George's  father  must  have  under 
stood.  And  it  is  for  George's  sake  that  I 
want  to  be  friends  with  you — you  and  his 
poor  heart-broken  mother.  I  want  to  com 
fort  her.  I  want  you  to  let  me  come  to-mor 
row  and  help  her  through  that  terrible  ordeal. 
I  want  to  be  here  in  the  house,  to  receive  the 
curious  strangers,  to  shield  her ;  to  let  her 
lean  upon  me  for  her  boy's  sake.  It  will  com 
fort  me — you  don't  know  how  much." 

He  did  not  answer.  She  feared  she  had 
moved  too  suddenly  ;  that  Barton,  being  un 
prepared,  would  refuse  her  request.  Wishing 
to  clinch  the  proposition,  she  spoke  through 
her  handkerchief : 

"  And  don't — don't  you  think — Mr.  Bar 
ton,"  a  bubble  of  sobs  broke  the  sentence, 
"  that  Jim  Kelsey  wouldn't  brave  the  whole 
world  for  anyone  who  was  that  good  to  me. 
Oh,  Jim  is  so  good  to  me,  Mr.  Barton,  so 
good." 

It  was  not  Mrs.  Kelsey's  grief  that  moved 
36 


THE   MAN   ON"   HORSEBACK 

Barton.  For  he  looked  up  at  her  quickly,  and 
when  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  dry,  he  knew 
that  he  was  facing  a  business  proposition. 
Mrs.  Kelsey  did  not  meet  his  gaze,  but  her  eyes 
fell,  coyly  enough  perhaps,  to  have  deceived  a 
meaner  judge  of  human  nature  into  parleying 
and  haggling  for  better  terms.  Joab  Barton 
consumed  one  —  two  —  three  —  four  —  five 
minutes  in  debate  with  the  devil  before  Mrs. 
Kelsey  got  her  answer.  In  that  five  minutes 
Barton  looked  at  the  naked  facts  in  the  case. 
He  took  into  account  his  wife's  hatred  for 
Mrs.  Kelsey.  He  saw  clearly  that  he  was 
trading  his  wife's  peace  of  mind  for  votes  to 
pass  the  Franchise  bill.  He  knew  that  such 
a  course  would  be  abhorrent  to  his  son.  But 
the  spirit  of  the  fight  was  so  big  in  him  that 
he  put  by  his  wife's  scruples  as  the  whims  of 
a  foolish  woman,  and  passed  over  what  might 
have  been  his  son's  objections  as  the  quib- 
blings  of  a  sentimental  boy.  As  for  his  own 
high  purposes  of  the  earlier  hours  of  the  day, 
he  saw  in  them  only  the  vaporings  of  an  un 
balanced  mind.  Still  it  took  time  to  settle 
these  things,  and  while  they  were  settling 
Mrs.  Kelsey  composed  herself  and  waited  her 
answer  patiently.  Barton  had  been  drum- 
37 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

ming  on  his  desk  with  the  long  thin  blade  of 
a  paper-knife,  and  he  did  not  lift  his  eyes 
from  the  tip  of  the  blade  as  he  said : 

"  Very  well,  Mrs.  Kelsey,  very  well,"  and 
then  added :  "  Will  that  be  all  ?  " 

"No,  I  think  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Kelsey,  as 
if  trying  to  recall  the  last  article  on  a  shop 
ping  list.  "  Mrs.  Barton  and  I  should  have 
an  understanding,  and  there  will  be  no  better 
time  than  now.  I  believe  I  would  send  for 
Mrs.  Barton,  if  I  were  you." 

Mrs.  Barton  came  into  the  room,  her  large 
figure  trembling,  and  her  head,  that  was 
crowned  with  crimping-pins,  nodding  as  in  a 
palsy.  The  brown  wrinkles  in  her  face  were 
drawn  and  deepened,  and  there  was  a  pitiable 
abandonment  to  grief  in  her  wrinkled  clothes. 
If  the  stricken  mother's  heart  was  clutched 
by  surprise  or  anger,  when  she  recognized 
Mrs.  Kelsey,  her  heavy  face  did  not  show  it. 
She  seemed  to  have  reached  a  point  where 
her  body  did  not  repeat  the  agonized  writh- 
ings  of  her  soul. 

"  Well,  Joab,  what  is  it  ?  "  was  her  greet 
ing. 

When  she  heard  her  husband's  disagreeable 
prefatory  cough  she  must  have  known  that 
38 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

his  words  would  be  painful  to  her.  But  she 
seemed  none  the  less  ready  to  hear  them. 

"Mrs.  Barton,"  began  her  husband,  "you 
know  Mrs.  Kelsey."  The  wife  made  a  trem 
bling  acknowledgment  to  Mrs.  Kelsey's  effu 
sion.  "Mrs.  Kelsey,"  continued  Barton,  "is 
going  to  place  us  greatly  in  her  debt.  And 
in  a  way  that  nothing  except  a  manifestation 
of  our  gratitude  can  repay  her.  I  have  had 
a  talk  with  Mrs.  Kelsey,  and  she  tells  me 
that  she  considers  it  important  to  be  here  to 
morrow,  to  represent  us  during  the  morning 
and  to  be  with  us  during  the  afternoon.  1 
have  pledged  her  your  consent.  Considering 
the  debt  we  owe  her  I  could  do  nothing 
else." 

It  was  a  long  speech;  but  Barton  had 
braced  himself  for  it,  and  said  it  carefully 
and  slowly,  as  though  he  were  dictating  it  to 
his  stenographer.  Mrs.  Barton,  who  had 
seated  herself  before  the  message  started, 
seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  speaking  once 
or  twice  during  the  recitation,  but  checked  her 
self,  and  when  her  husband  ceased  talking 
she  replied: 

"It's  just  as  you  say,  Joab." 

Mrs.  Kelsey,  rising  to  go,  said :  "  I'm  so 
39 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 


glad,  Mrs.  Barton,  that   you  will  let  me  do 
something  to  help  you  in  your  trouble." 

Mrs.  Kelsey  approached  the  elder  woman, 
and  brought  with  her  the  odor  of  violets  and 
the  irritating  rustle  of  silk.  There  was  a 
creaking  mechanism  about  her  gestures  and 
in  her  manner  that  rasped  the  nerves  of  the 
heart-broken  mother.  In  a  second  she  lost 
her  self-control.  Anger  made  her  joints  rigid 
as  she  stood  before  her  husband  ;  but  her 
voice  quavered  and  broke  and  ran  the  gamut 
along  its  short  register  as  she  spoke  : 

"Joab  Barton,  do  you  know  what  that  — 
that  —  that  creature  is?"  She  pointed  to 
Mrs.  Kelsey.  "  What  she  has  done  ?  That's 
the  person  that  tagged  after  George  in  Mani- 
tou  and  tried  to  bring  him  to  her  level.  Let 
her  in  the  house?  That  woman  —  that  — 
that— 

Barton  did  not  stop  drumming  with  his 
knife  upon  his  desk.  Mrs.  Kelsey  stood 
motionless  near  the  grate.  In  the  helpless 
ness  of  her  rage,  the  mother  turned,  as  if  to 
step  toward  the  younger  woman,  and  cried  : 

"  How  dare  you  come  here  !  How  dare 
you  !  Isn't  it  enough  for  you  to  hound  my 
boy  in  life?  Are  you  going  to—  But 

40 


THE   MAN   ON   HORSEBACK 

Mrs.  Barton  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  She 
lost  voice  in  a  burst  of  tears.  And  Mrs.  Kel- 
sey  exclaimed,  in  the  calmest  and  sweetest 
tone  : 

"  My  poor  dear  woman,  you  don't  realize 
what  you  are  saying  and  you  cannot  know 
what  you  are  talking  about.  Why,  I  loved 
George  like  he  was  my  own  child." 

The  violet  perfume  from  the  handkerchief 
at  Mrs.  Kelsey's  eyes  stimulated  the  rage  of 
the  mother  and  she  found  speech. 

"  Don't  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about  ? 
Don't  I  ?  "  Mrs.  Barton  trembled,  not  with 
the  palsy  of  grief  but  with  pent-up  wrath, 
which  passed  away  as  she  turned  to  her  hus 
band  : 

"  For  God's  sake,  Joab,  are  you  going  to 
do  this?  Don't,  don't,  Joab;  please  don't. 
Not  now — any  time  but  now." 

Barton  again  spoke  in  his  emotionless 
voice. 

"  You  don't  understand.  It  is  a  matter  of 
business — purely  business.  And  I  must  have 
my  way.  What  time  in  the  morning  shall 
Mrs.  Kelsey  call?" 

Probably  Mrs.  Barton  had  met  the  look 
before  that  came  into  her  husband's  face. 
41 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

She  stood  and  stared  at  him  hopelessly,  and 
moaned : 

"Oh,  God!     Business!     Business!" 
At  the  door,  before  she  closed  it  behind 
her,  the  mother  broke  into  tears.     And  they 
heard  her  heavy  footsteps  in  the  hall  and  on 
the  stairs.     Her  cry  came  back  to  them  : 
"George!     George!     Oh,  George!" 
Through  the  stillness  of  the  house  came  the 
click  of  the  parlor-door,  and   after  the  two 
above  stairs  heard  a  wild,  piteous  burst  of 
sorrow,  the  house  grew  quiet,  and  the  clock  - 
ticks   came    into  the    silence    and    startled 
them. 

The  Morning  Times,  which  told  of  the  pomp 
and  splendor  of  George  Barton's  funeral,  pub 
lished,  under  the  caption  of  "THE  MAN  ON 
HORSEBACK,"  a  double-leaded  editorial  which 
Joab  T.  Barton  did  not  read.  Yet  it  con 
tained  much  of  interest  to  him  and  to  all  good 
citizens.  The  editorial  ran  thus : 

"  Last  night  the  city  council  passed  Joab 
T.  Barton's  ordinance  granting  him  a  renewal 
of  his  street  railway  franchises  in  this  city  for 
twenty  years.  The  ordinance  was  passed  just 
as  it  came  from  the  law  department  of  the 
42 


THE   MAN    ON   HORSEBACK 

West  Side  Electric  Railway  Company,  with 
out  an  ink-scratch  on  the  twenty-five  hand 
some  green  type-written  pages.  It  was  passed 
by  a  majority  of  five,  the  exact  majority  that 
the  West  Side  people  boasted  it  would  have 
six  months  ago.  There  was  in  it  not  one 
concession  to  the  people.  For  three  months 
the  citizens  of  this  town  have  made  public 
sentiment  against  this  nefarious  measure  so 
plain  that  no  one  has  disputed  it.  If  there 
had  been  the  slightest  remnant  left  of  the  in 
stitution  of  a  government  by  the  people,  Joab 
T.  Barton  would  have  paid  the  city  some  ade 
quate  return  for  the  great  concession  he  has 
wrested  from  the  people  through  chicanery 
and  corruption. 

"  But  the  vote  last  night  has  demonstrated 
that  this  town  no  longer  enjoys  popular  gov 
ernment.  This  town,  its  citizens,  its  proper 
ty,  real  and  personal,  and  the  hereditaments 
thereunto  appertaining,  are  the  chattels  of 
Joab  T.  Barton.  He  not  only  owns  the  execu 
tive  and  legislative  branches  of  the  civil  gov 
ernment,  but  the  judiciary  is  recruited  from  his 
law  offices.  He  can  give  us  water  or  not,  at 
his  will ;  he  can  furnish  us  with  light  or  not, 
at  his  will.  He  can  bid  us  walk,  and  there  is 

48 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

no  recourse  from  his  edict.  By  a  scratch  of 
his  pen  he  can  increase  freight-rates  on  his 
great  railroad  system,  putting  the  necessaries 
of  life  out  of  the  reach  of  one-third  of  the  pop 
ulation  in  the  city,  and  no  State  Legislature 
dare  check  his  avarice.  There  has  been  much 
talk  about  the  coming  revolution  that  is  to  de 
stroy  property  rights  and  overthrow  free  gov 
ernment.  The  talk  is  idle.  A  silent  revolu 
tion  has  been  accomplished.  Our  dictator  is 
here.  Napoleon's  monarchy  had  only  limit 
ed  powers  compared  with  those  which  Joab 
T.  Barton  controls.  What  a  farce  are  these 
empty  forms  of  popular  government ! 

"  Out  of  the  mad  struggle  for  commercial 
supremacy — a  struggle  that  has  cost  America 
a  thousand  times  more  lives,  and  better  lives 
than  the  revolutionary  guillotine  took  from 
France — has  risen  in  every  American  city,  and 
in  many  American  States,  some  bloodless, 
greedy,  brutal  incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  the 
times,  like  Joab  T.  Barton.  He  is  THE  MAN 
ON  HORSEBACK." 


A  VICTORY   FOR  THE  PEOPLE 


A  VICTORY  FOR  THE   PEOPLE 

THE  Governor  flatly  refused  to  consider  the 
claims  of  the  men  who  aspired  to  suc 
ceed  the  dead  Senator  until  ten  days  after  the 
senatorial  funeral ;  so  the  day  following  that 
ceremony  half  a  dozen  patriots  secured  suites 
of  rooms  in  the  hotel  frequented  by  the  poli 
ticians  at  the  capital.  Newspapers  and  cal 
low  strangers  called  these  suites  "  head 
quarters,"  but  in  the  dialect  of  the  time  and 
the  place  they  figured  as  "  the  Judge's  room," 
"  Joe's  room,"  and  "  Tom's  room." 

As  the  ten  days  wore  on,  lounging  men  dis 
ordered  the  beds  in  these  rooms  earlier  and 
earlier  in  the  day.  The  white  and  brown 
squares  in  the  tiled  floor  of  the  hotel  office 
remained  beneath  the  dirt  that  covered  them 
farther  and  farther  into  the  night.  The  low- 
keyed  roar  of  the  idle  crowd  in  the  corridors 
did  not  cease  on  the  ninth  day  until  after 
midnight,  and  the  porters  who  straightened 
the  long  rows  of  office-chairs  in  the  hotel 
47 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

lobby  were  called  from  their  work  to  take  the 
valises  of  guests  who  came  in  on  early  morn 
ing  trains.  These  guests  pulled  the  chairs 
out  of  line  again,  and  snoozed  by  the  fire  un 
til  breakfast.  But  even  while  these  wayfarers 
slept,  there  roamed  above  them,  under  the 
light  of  single  gas-jets  turned  low,  restless 
spirits  who  flitted  in  and  out  of  bedrooms, 
plotting,  pleading,  threatening — all  with  the 
spent  energy  of  a  worn-out  day.  When  the 
new  day  came  to  those  who  had  been  sleep 
ing  above  stairs,  with  it  came  the  stale  odors 
of  the  busy  night;  and  a  thousand  feet 
stepped  anxiously  from  the  path  of  dreams 
into  the  tangled  wilderness  of  treasons,  strata 
gems,  and  spoils. 

A  free  people  were  choosing  a  leader,  and 
great  events  were  stirring.  Therefore,  after 
the  hour  appointed  by  the  Governor  on  the 
tenth  day,  little  groups  of  men  began  to  file 
into  the  Governor's  office,  and  to  draw  their 
chairs  closely  about  his  big  walnut  table. 
Crowds  of  men  began  to  tramp  in,  take  posses 
sion  of  the  corner  nearest  the  outer  door,  and 
stand  there  patiently  while  their  orator  grew 
red  with  impassioned  eulogy  of  their  candi 
date.  Later  in  the  day  unheralded  gentlemen 
48 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

slipped  in  and  out  through  side  doors.  En 
thusiastic  gentlemen  came  and  clutched  the 
Governor's  coat-front,  while  they  bruised  his 
breastbone  with  stiff  index  fingers  on  good 
right  hands.  Men  with  moist  breath  blew 
secrets  into  the  gubernatorial  ear  until  the 
Governor  longed  for  the  power  a  cat  has  to 
shake  its  ear  spasmodically.  In  the  moments 
between  the  onslaughts  Governor  Ehodes 
stood  at  the  window  of  his  office  and  looked 
listlessly  down  at  the  snow-covered  State- 
house  grounds,  or  he  paced  his  room  wearily 
like  a  prisoner,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him. 

Two  long  days  passed  thus.  At  three 
o'clock  on  the  third  day  the  Governor  barred 
his  doors  and  wrote  a  note.  When  Harvey  K. 
Bolton  read  that  note  he  was  in  Tom  Whar- 
tou's  room  at  the  hotel,  and  the  jug  which 
usually  sat  behind  the  wash-stand  in  the 
corner  had  just  made  the  circuit  of  the  room. 
Bolton  rose  and  pocketed  the  note.  To  Mr. 
Wharton  and  his  retainers  Bolton  replied  : 

"  I  am  going  over  to  the  State-house  to 
sound  another  clarion-note  for  the  friend  of 
the  great  plain  people,  the  Honorable  Thomas 
Wharton,  M.C." 

49 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

And  breaking  his  mock  heroics,  he  went 
out  of  the  room  arid  down  the  long  corridor 
and  into  the  stench  of  the  hotel  lobby.  He 
walked  briskly,  and  as  he  passed  through  the 
crowd  men  tried  to  stop  him.  He  swung 
them  off  lightly,  with  a  smile  when  necessary, 
with  a  shake  of  the  head  when  it  would 
suffice.  His  overcoat  was  buttoned  trimly 
about  him,  and  he  tugged  at  his  gloves  as  he 
neared  the  sidewalk.  Harvey  K.  Bolton  was 
a  large  man  who  moved  well  on  his  feet.  His 
shoulders  were  as  square  as  his  jaw  was 
rectangular.  He  walked  in  a  bee-line  and 
made  others  turn  for  him. 

He  stopped  in  a  cigar-store  and  re-read  the 
Governor's  note : 

"MY  DEAR  HARVEY:  You've  got  to  take  it. 
There  is  no  use  talking  of  Tom.  Come  over. 

C.  R." 

Bolton  gripped  his  unlimited  cigar  firmly  in 
his  teeth  as  he  went  toward  the  State-house. 
He  nodded  to  wayfarers  in  passing,  but  he 
was  full  of  the  issue  of  his  errand.  He  was 
sure  of  one  thing :  that  he  did  not  wish  to 
give  up  a  twenty-five-thousand-dollar  salary 
as  attorney  for  the  Corn  Belt  Eailroad,  for 
50 


A   VICTOEY    FOE    THE   PEOPLE 

two  years  of  an  unexpired  term  in  the  United 
States  Senate.  When  he  left  the  hotel  he  in 
tended  to  go  directly  to  the  Capitol,  but  on 
his  way  he  turned  into  the  entrance  of  the 
Corn  Belt  building  and  went  to  his  office. 
There  he  spent  a  reflective  half -hour.  He  de 
cided  three  times  that  he  did  not  care  to  go 
to  the  Senate  ;  and  yet  he  liked  to  fancy  him 
self  there,  and  to  picture  the  power  that  he 
felt  he  could  command.  In  his  profession 
he  stood  higher  than  most  of  the  members 
of  the  Senate  had  stood  in  their  profes 
sions  when  they  left  private  life.  As  an  or 
ator  he  was  in  demand  upon  occasions  of 
national  celebration  as  often  as  any  Senator 
was.  He  realized  these  things,  and  yet  he 
feared  that  his  career  as  a  railroad  attorney 
would  injure  his  chances  for  election  two 
years  thereafter.  He  considered  well  the 
power  of  the  party  machine,  which  he  believed 
he  could  control  if  he  Avere  Senator.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  saw  clearly  that  his  elevation 
to  the  Senate  would  embarrass  his  party  at 
the  polls,  and  perhaps  defeat  it.  His  political 
sense  told  him  it  would  be  unwise  for  him  to 
accept  the  appointment,  yet  there  was  the 
temptation  before  him  in  black  and  white. 
51 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Not  the  least  part  of  Bolton's  temptation  was 
a  sincere  ambition  to  give  his  talents  (and  he 
estimated  them  fairly  and  not  in  vanity)  to  his 
country.  A  fervid  moment  came  to  him.  In 
this  moment  he  felt  the  need  of  strong  men 
on  the  right  side  of  the  battle  for  good  gov 
ernment,  and  ambition  glowed  in  his  heart. 
An  instant  later  reason  smothered  the  flame. 
It  was  in  a  sane  mood  that  Bolton  rose  to 
leave  the  office.  Passing  his  desk,  he  noticed 
an  unopened  letter  from  the  president  of  the 
Corn  Belt  road.  Bolton  stopped  to  read  it. 
He  found  that  it  was  an  answer  to  a  commun 
ication  from  him  about  the  senatorial  situa 
tion  as  it  had  appeared  to  Bolton  three  days 
before.  The  president's  letter  urged  Bolton 
to  control  the  appointment  at  any  hazard. 
The  writer  spoke  of  the  prominence  which  the 
newspapers  had  been  giving  to  the  candidacy 
of  John  Gardiner.  The  president  urged  Bol 
ton  to  watch  that  part  of  the  situation  care 
fully.  The  letter  announced  that  there  was  a 
rumor  in  Chicago  that  Gardiner  had  been  em 
ployed  by  the  enemies  of  the  Corn  Belt,  who 
were  insisting  upon  the  Government  foreclos 
ure  of  the  road  if  the  debt  which  the  Govern 
ment's  mortgage  stood  for  should  not  be  paid. 
52 


A   VICTOEY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

After  admonishing  Bolton  not  to  be  too  sure 
that  the  Gardiner  candidacy  was  a  bubble — 
as  Bolton  had  called  it  in  a  previous  letter 
— the  president  of  the  Corn  Belt  continued : 
"  Why  should  not  Governor  Rhodes  appoint 
you  ?  With  you  in  the  Senate,  we  should  feel 
absolutely  safe."  The  letter  closed  by  saying 
that  the  president  of  the  Corn  Belt  would  in 
quire  more  closely  into  the  rumors  connecting 
Gardiner  with  the  men  who  were  insisting 
upon  foreclosure,  and  that  Bolton  would  re 
ceive  advice  by  wire.  When  Bolton  put  down 
that  letter  he  ceased  to  be  a  senatorial  possi 
bility.  The  president's  inference  that  Bolton 
as  Senator  would  be  a  Corn-Belt  attorney 
hurt  him  for  a  second ;  but  when  he  recovered 
his  poise,  it  was  the  attorney  for  the  Corn 
Belt  who  shut  down  the  top  of  the  desk  and 
hurried  to  the  street.  Bolton  had  bought  a 
good  many  purchasable  men,  but  he  distinctly 
understood  that  he  was  not  in  the  market 
himself. 

As  he  hurried  along,  Bolton' s  mind  turned 
to  John  Gardiner,  the  candidate  who  was  lead 
ing  the  "  anti-gang  "  faction  in  his  party.  He 
was  known  as  the  Truly  Good.  He  did  not 
establish  head-quarters  in  the  Capitol ;  but 
53 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

among  that  indefinite  minority  known  as  the 
best  people  of  the  State  there  was  a  strong 
feeling  that  Gardiner  would  make  an  ideal 
Senator.  Coupled  with  that  was  the  restful 
certainty  that  Gardiner  had  no  possible  pros 
pect  of  being  appointed.  This  popular  sup 
port  of  Gardiner  crystallized  into  a  petition 
in  his  behalf,  signed  by  respectable  persons 
whose  names  were  never  enrolled  in  the  party 
conventions.  More  than  that,  there  was  a 
concert  of  powers  among  the  newspapers  of 
the  better  sort ;  and  the  concert  was  for  Gar 
diner  in  the  most  vehement  double  leads.  In 
postscripts  to  half  the  business  letters  which 
reached  the  executive  council  were  endorse 
ments  of  Gardiner.  Nevertheless,  everyone 
conceded  that  no  one  with  any  influence  was 
for  him.  Bolton  knew  of  the  unorganized  sen 
timent  for  Gardiner.  He  had  seen  the  peti 
tions,  he  had  read  the  newspapers,  he  knew  of 
the  postscripts  to  the  letters,  and  he  appre 
ciated  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  the 
Gardiner  sentiment.  The  Corn-Belt  attorney 
liked  Gardiner.  The  two  men  belonged  to 
the  same  town  club,  and  they  often  sat  before 
the  grate-fire  in  the  club  reading-room  making 
grotesque  pictures  for  each  other  with  the  in- 

04 


•     - 


The  Governor  looked  up  and  said,  "Well,  Senator?" 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

iquity  of  political  corruption  for  rhetorical 
pigment.  The  two  men  read  the  same  books. 
They  often  went  to  New  York  together,  where 
they  enjoyed  the  same  pictures  and  laughed 
at  the  same  things  in  the  theatres.  Bolton 
knew  that  Gardiner  thought  because  the  news 
papers  were  for  him  he  had  the  best  of  the 
senatorial  situation;  Bolton  even  knew  in  a 
vague  way,  that  without  ever  having  asked  for 
it  explicitly,  Gardiner  expected  the  Corn-Belt 
attorney's  support.  But  Bolton  felt  that  he 
could  not  rely  on  Gardiner  to  prevent  the 
foreclosure  of  the  Government  mortgage  on 
the  Corn-Belt  road,  even  if  it  should  transpire 
that  Gardiner  was  not  the  attorney  for  the 
opposition. 

Bolton  came  bustling  into  the  Governor's 
office,  took  off  his  overcoat,  and  flung  a 
"Hello,  Charlie,"  to  the  Governor.  The 
Governor  looked  up  from  a  paper  and  said, 
"Well,  Senator?" 

Governor  Rhodes  was  a  tall,  lank  man  with 
an  actor's  face,  loose-skinned  and  wrinkled. 
He  had  sharp  brown  eyes,  and  the  effect  of 
his  gray-streaked  hair  and  mustache  against 
his  clean  olive  skin  had  produced  an  argu 
ment  for  his  nomination.  There  was  no  con- 
55 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

tradicfcing  the  claim  of  the  Rhodes  men  that 
he  was  a  "  good  looker."  He  often  stopped 
and  puffed  cigar-smoke  between  important 
words  exasperatingly.  Strangers  thought  he 
did  it  to  show  his  pride  in  being  Governor. 
Only  his  best  friends  and  his  bitterest  ene 
mies  knew  the  other  signs  of  his  vanity. 

"  Lookee  here,  Charlie  Rhodes,"  exclaimed 
Boltoii,  as  he  threw  himself  on  the  lounge 
back  of  the  Governor's  desk,  so  that  the  Gov 
ernor  had  to  swing  around  to  face  him:  "I 
don't  want  to  go  to  the  Senate.  I'm  running 
a  law  office." 

The  Governor  smiled  complacently,  and 
replied,  quietly  :  "  All  right,  Harvey  K. ;  but 
I'm  going  to  send  you  there,  law  or  no  law." 

"Well,  I  won't  accept.  I'm  in  earnest, 
Charlie.  It's  mighty  good  of  you,  but  I  don't 
want  it.  You  must  give  it  to  Tom.  There's 
no  other  way  out  of  it." 

The  Governor  lighted  a  cigar  deliberately, 
shaking  his  head  blandly  as  he  flipped  away 
the  match. 

"Why  not?  "  asked  Bolton,  rising. 

"  Damn  "  (puff,  puff)  "  scoundrel." 

Bolton  had  not  met  this  mood  in  Rhodes 
before.  The  attorney  looked  his  man  over,  and 
56 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

lay  back  on  the  lounge.  He  decided  to  find 
what  was  moving  in  the  gubernatorial  mind. 
The  Governor  put  his  feet  on  his  desk,  pufi'ed 
contentedly  for  awhile,  and  then  ejaculated, 
over  his  shoulder : 

"  You  or  Gardiner  ! " 

Bolton  did  not  move.  He  was  looking  at 
Khodes  through  little  slits  where  his  large 
bright  eyes  should  have  been.  The  Govern 
or  had  braced  himself  for  an  uncomfortable 
session,  so  he  called  the  meeting  to  order 
with  : 

"  Politics  too  rotten  in  this  State.  People 
are  tired  of  Tom  Wharton's  methods."  The 
speaker  did  not  like  the  silence  that  followed. 
He  walked  over  to  Bolton  and  said,  queru 
lously  :  "  Harvey,  why  won't  you  take  it  ?  " 

Bolton's  half-closed,  beady  eyes  were  irri 
tating  the  Governor's  nerves.  The  silence 
deepened.  Rhodes  sat  down  and  let  his  ci 
gar  go  out.  The  pause  lasted  two  minutes. 
Finally  the  Governor  exclaimed :  "  Well  ?  " 

Then  Bolton  rose  and  said,  with  all  the 
curl  he  could  put  on  his  closely  cropped 
upper  lip : 

"  I  suppose  you  know  what  you  are  saying, 
Charlie  Rhodes?" 

57 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

"What's  the  matter,  Harvey?  What's 
wrong  now?" 

"  Politics  are  rotten,  are  they  ?  Well,  when 
did  you  turn  sky-pilot  ?  Haven't  you  for 
gotten  something?  Who  made  you  Gov 
ernor?  Where  wrould  you  be  now  if  Tom 
Wharton  hadn't  taken  Corn-Belt  money,  and 
gone  out  and  bought  a  lot  of  coyote  counties 
in  that  convention  ?  Hell's  afire,  and  the 
calves  are  out,  Charlie  Rhodes,  when  }-ou  talk 
about  rotten  politics  and  Tom  Wharton's 
methods." 

The  Governor  grinned  reminiscently.  Bol- 
ton  paced  the  floor  of  the  office  twice,  and 
then  came  and  stood  directly  in  front  of 
Rhodes,  with  the  walnut  table  between  them. 

"  Charlie  Rhodes,  I  hate  to  believe  you  are 
a  pup.  I  know  you  will  take  money  from 
one  side ;  but  I  did  not  think  you  were  dis 
honest.  I  did  not  think  you  would  take 
money  from  both  sides.  Who  is  putting  up 
for  Gardiner  ?  " 

The  Governor  flushed,  then  cleared  his 
throat,  and  returned  :  "I  wouldn't  take  that 
from  anyone  but  you,  sir."  He  added,  in 
a  natural  voice,  "  Now,  Harvey,  talk  sense. 
Keep  your  shirt  on.  What  have  you  got 
68 


A   VICTORY    FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

against  Gardiner?  Come,  sit  down.  Talk 
this  over  sensibly." 

When  Bolton  had  brought  the  affair  to  this 
stage,  he  sat  down,  drew  his  chair  next  to 
the  Governor's,  and  began  : 

"  I  was  a  little  rough,  Charlie ;  but  to  see 
you  about  to  make  so  many  kinds  of  a  fool  of 
yourself  made  me  hot.  You  know  why  we 
can't  have  Gardiner,  Charlie.  Who's  for  him  ? 
Look  them  over,  and  every  mother's  son  of 
them  is  after  you  with  a  gun.  Look  at  Moul- 
ton !  He's  wearing  a  Gardiner  badge  and 
circulating  Gardiner  petitions,  and  slashing 
your  liver  with  a  cheese-knife  at  every  jump 
in  the  road.  Look  at  the  Ptev.  Michael  Hogan 
— the  old  pie-face !  He  was  in  to  see  you  to 
day.  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

The  Governor  laughed.  "  Oh,  he  said  he 
was  placed  where  he  had  to  promise  Gardiner 
to  come  and  see  me ;  but  he  hoped  I  wouldn't 
think  he  was  out  of  the  race  himself.  He 
said  if  he  wasn't  appointed  himself,  he  sup 
posed  I  couldn't  do  better  than  Gardiner,  but 
that  I  knew  best." 

"  That's  it,  Charlie,  that's  it.  That's  your 
purification  of  politics.  That's  the  outfit 
that's  whooping  it  up  for  Gardiner.  Do  you 
59 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

know  what  that  old  fraud  told  Gardiner  to 
day  ?  He  said  he  had  been  up  here,  and  had 
laid  down  on  you,  and  had  withdrawn  from 
the  race,  and  had  demanded  Gardiner's  ap 
pointment  on  behalf  of  50,000  Republicans 
in  his  Conference.  He  said  you  told  him 
that  his  resignation  cleared  the  air,  and 
that  you  promised  to  appoint  John  Gardiner. 
There's  your  holier-than-thou  crowd,  Charlie 
Rhodes.  I  don't  blame  you  for  laughing. 
Now,  honest  Ingin,  Charlie,  are  you  going  to 
desert  us  for  that  crowd  ?  " 

The  Governor  replied,  peevishly :  "  Harve, 
I  can't  appoint  Tom.  It  would  look  like  a 
deal.  The  papers  would  abuse  us,  and  we'd 
be  drummed  out  of  the  State.  Don't  you  see 
I  can't  do  it?  I'd  like  to,  but  I  can't." 

The  two  men  rose  and  walked  to  the  win 
dow.  Bolton's  arm  was  on  the  Governor's 
shoulder.  He  laughed  as  he  spoke.  "  Oh, 
Charlie,  Charlie,  I  thought  I  explained  all 
that  the  last  time."  He  feigned  impatience, 
and  won  a  smile  from  Rhodes  for  his  feigning. 

"Charlie,  how  many  times  will  I  have  to 

tell  you  that  they  can't  hurt  yon.     With  Tom 

in  the  Senate  and  you  here,  all  hell  can't  beat 

you.     You  know  it ;  and  if  you  put  in  Gar- 

GO 


A   VICTOEY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

diner,  what  would  he  do  ?  He'd  be  monkey- 
doodlin'  around  with  some  Chinese  labor  bill 
or  some  civil  service  twaddle,  and  his  own 
county  would  instruct  a  delegation  against 
you.  The  only  fellows  he  would  wake  up  to 
reward  are  your  enemies.  He'd  give  them 
sinews  to  strangle  you.  More  than  that,  he 
would  help  them  strangle  all  your  friends." 

At  the  close  of  the  silence  the  Governor 
said  to  Bolton  :  "  Give  me  a  match!  "  Bolton 
lighted  it  for  the  Governor,  who  walked  back 
to  his  chair,  and  sighed  :  "  Oh,  Lord,  I  wish 
I  was  out  of  it.  What  does  a  man  ever  want 
to  be  Governor  for,  anyway  ? "  The  last 
sentence  came,  punctuated  with  puffs.  Bol 
ton  read  this  for  a  good  sign.  He  was  look 
ing  out  of  the  window  when  he  saw  the 
Governor's  wife  across  the  great  square  of 
the  State-house  grounds.  He  did  not  turn 
around,  but  asked,  with  apparent  careless 
ness  :  "  Where  did  you  get  that  Gardiner 
idea,  Charlie?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  he's  a  good  man.    Why  ?  " 

"  Haven't  promised  anyone  you'd  appoint 

him,  have  you  ?  "  asked  the  attorney,  with  his 

eyes  still  following  the  woman's  figure  in  the 

distance.     A  quick,  unemphasized  "  No  "  was 

61 


STEATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

followed  by  a  petulant  "Why  are  you  so 
dead  set  on  the  appointment  of  Tom  ?  His 
record  is  bad.  How  the  papers  would  scream." 
Bolton  laughed  sympathetically,  and  said : 

"  Charlie,  I  didn't  come  here  to  abuse  you. 
I  came  here  with  an  idea.  It's  this  :  I  don't 
want  to  go  to  the  Senate.  I  don't  care  any 
more  for  Tom  Wharton  than  you  do — I  mean 
personally.  But  I'm  under  obligations  to 
him,  and  so  are  you ;  and  what's  more,  I  need 
him  in  my  business.  He  is  the  only  man  I 
can  trust  in  this  Corn  Belt  foreclosure  mat 
ter  ;  it's  only  for  two  years  anyway.  Then  it 
will  be  your  time." 

The  Governor  turned  quickly  to  Bolton, 
saw  the  meaning  of  the  words,  and  shook  his 
head. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can,  Charlie;  and  I'll  help 
you.  To  begin  with,  I'll  get  $15,000  as  a 
campaign  fund,  and  we'll  put  a  fellow  in  the 
central  committee  rooms  whose  business  it 
will  be  to  see  that  every  man-jack  running 
for  the  Legislature  who  gets  any  aid  from  the 
State  committee  is  for  you.  Then  you  work 
your  end  of  the  business  with  the  State  Sen 
ators  who  hold  over,  and  you  can  make  it. 
I  tell  you,  you've  got  an  immortal  cinch." 
62 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

The  Governor  put  his  cigar  on  the  desk 
edge,  and  asked  :  "  How  'bout  Tom  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  care  of  him,"  replied  the  attor 
ney. 

"How?" 

"  Oh,  lots  of  ways.  Pull  the  bribery  busi 
ness,  if  I  have  to.  He  is  easy." 

"But  he's  such  a  fraud,  Harve.  There's 
no  use  talking,  I  can't  appoint  him."  At  the 
end  of  the  pause  Khodes  continued  :  "  I  sup 
pose  I  could  count  on  Melling's  help  in  the 
Senate,  and  Brewster  would  come  back  and 
lead  the  fight  in  the  House  ?  " 

Bolton  reeled  out  the  line  with  a  nod. 
Khodes  made  for  the  bottom  Avith:  "We 
could  at  least  send  Tom  back  to  Congress  at 
the  end  of  his  term.  That  ought  to  be  enough 
for  him." 

And  Bolton  began  to  wind  in :  "  Yes,  down 
in  his  district  they  never  go  back  on  the  old 
man." 

The  Governor  puffed  his  cigar.  The  line 
tightened  as  he  replied  :  "  When  you  break 
the  news  to  old  Tom,  be  sure  and  take  along 
a  shoe-spoon  and  some  powdered  chalk,  or 
he  won't  be  able  to  get  his  hat  on."  Bolton 
laughed  heartily,  and  the  two  men  rose. 
63 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SrOILS 

And  so  it  ended  as  Harvey  K.  Bolton  de 
sired  it  to  end.  The  Governor  followed  the 
Corn-Belt  attorney  to  the  door.  Bolton  said  : 

"  That's  all  right,  Charlie.  It's  on  me.  I 
thought  you  had  given  us  the  mitten.  Ho  w'd 
I  know  you  were  fooling  ?  I'll  see  Tom  at 
supper  and  tell  him.  This  is  a  mighty  wise 
move,  Charlie,  and  you'll  not  suffer  by  it." 
After  a  long  grip  from  the  gubernatorial 
hand,  Bolton  walked  out  into  the  crisp  win 
ter  air. 

The  Governor  went  back  to  a  hissing  steam- 
coil,  and  held  his  thin  hands  over  it.  The 
room  was  warm,  but  the  warmth  of  the 
heated  iron  felt  good  to  him.  He  stood  with 
his  hands  behind  him,  thinking.  He  was 
planning  rapidly,  and  fitting  the  furniture  of 
his  fancy  to  the  new  prospect  perhaps  more 
rapidly  than  he  planned  for  the  realization  of 
his  hopes.  His  mind  was  absorbed  in  the 
riot  of  his  ambitions,  when  his  wife  came  in 
and  startled  him.  Mrs.  Rhodes  was  a  woman 
of  middle  age,  and  no  one  ever  hinted  that 
the  glow  in  her  cheeks  was  anything  but 
good  health  and  good  spirits.  There  was 
gray  in  her  light  fluffy  hair,  but  no  one  no 
ticed  it ;  and  even  her  enemies  admitted  that 
64 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

she  carried  her  weight  well.  She  associated 
herself  with  gowns  of  the  simplest  and  most 
stylish  cut,  and  her  bonnets  kept  her  gowns 
good  company.  There  was  a  large  grace 
about  her  tall,  well-covered  frame  that  made 
agile,  catty  women  envy  her.  When  she 
came  into  the  office  that  winter  day,  Mrs. 
Khodes  brought  the  world  in  with  her. 
There  was  a  brusque  out-of-doorsness  about 
her,  and  a  masterful  strength  in  her  quick 
step  that  was  bracing.  She  broke  in  on  her 
husband  with :  "  Charlie  Rhodes,  if  you  ever 
send  another  worthless  darky  out  to  cut 
wood  because  he  can  carry  a  precinct  in 
Stringtown,  I'll  leave  you.  That  creature  you 
sent  out  this  morning  hasn't  done  a  thing  all 
day  but  feel  of  his  back  and  grunt.  I  came 
down  for  my  new  bonnet ;  how  do  you  like 
it?" 

After  an  exchange  of  courtesies,  Mrs. 
Rhodes  asked :  "  Well,  Charlie,  tell  me,  did 
Harvey  Bolton  take  it  ?  " 

The  question  brought  the  Governor  up  to 
his  situation  abruptly.  He  had  hoped  to  ap 
proach  it  from  his  own  path,  leading  his  wife 
in  his  own  good  time  over  the  ground,  care 
fully  picking  out  the  advantageous  avenues 
65 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

for  her  to  traverse  toward  an  agreement  with 
him.  A  man  in  the  ecstasy  of  a  newly  organ 
ized  plan  or  of  a  freshly  rooted  hope,  dislikes 
to  return  to  the  bald  earth  upon  which  the 
plan  rises  or  in  which  the  hope  grows.  No 
man  enjoys  rebuilding  the  temple  of  his  plan, 
or  regenerating  his  hope  for  another's  satis 
faction.  So  Governor  Hhodes  did  what  most 
men  do  who  take  their  wives  into  their  lives 
at  all — he  rushed  into  the  middle  of  the 
affair,  and  tried  to  drag  Mrs.  Rhodes  with 
him  to  his  view  of  the  outlook  by  an  almost 
endless  chain  of  words.  When  they  were 
seated — the  man  on  the  lounge,  and  his  wife 
in  a  stuffy,  slippery,  leather  chair — Rhodes 
was  saying : 

"Of  course,  everything  is  uncertain  in  poli 
tics.  But  this  is  as  sure  as  anything  can  be. 
Boiton  can  get  the  money,  and  we've  known 
him  too  long  to  question  his  fidelity.  Tom 
Wharton  is  pretty  bad,  Lizzie,  I  know ;  but 
Melling  would  be  for  me.  I  can  make  Raw- 
lins  a  railroad  commissioner,  and  get  him. 
Wharton  won't  fight  me.  How  would  you 
like  to  be  Mrs.  Senator  Rhodes,  anyway  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rhodes  sat  looking  at  a  great  mirror 
above  a  mantel,  across  the  room.  She  re- 
66 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

plied,  absently,  "  It  looks  all  right,  Charlie ; 
give  me  time  to  think."  And  her  husband 
began  again : 

"  Why,  it's  a  good  scheme.  "Wharton  feels 
that  I  ought  to  do  something  for  him.  He 
helped  me.  We'll  be  out  of  debt  when  we 
leave  here.  We  can  afford  it.  Why  don't 
you  like  it,  Lizzie  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  do  like  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Ehodes, 
in  a  preoccupied  manner. 

Her  husband  went  over  the  proposition 
again  from  a  different  stand-point.  He  did 
not  know  that  he  was  trying  to  rush  an  en 
dorsement  of  his  promise  from  his  wife  before 
she  had  time  to  consider  the  matter.  The 
sense  of  guilt  was  not  defined  in  his  heart. 
Some  subconscious  ness  must  have  known  the 
truth,  and  it  must  have  been  clamoring  for  an 
approval  to  use  in  rebuttal  in  debates  to 
come.  Ehodes  finished  with  the  words : 
"Now,  I  don't  see  why  that  isn't  a  mighty 
good  arrangement.  I  thought  it  was,  or 
I  never  would  have — "  He  honestly  in 
tended  to  say  "consented  to  it,"  but  his 
mouth  said,  "  proposed  it." 

A  ghost  of  some  answer  danced  past  Mrs. 
Bhodes's  face  and  twitched  her  forehead,  but 
67 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

she  did  not  speak.  She  rose  and  measured 
the  room  three  times,  walking.  In  the  fourth 
lap  the  Governor  asked,  "  Well  ?  "  His  wife 
stood  still  and  faced  him  with:  "Charlie,  it 
won't  do.  Don't  you  see  it  won't  do?  If 
Harvey  K.  Bolton  wouldn't  take  the  place 
himself,  and  yet  would  give  $15,000  of  Corn- 
Belt  money  to  keep  Gardiner  out,  there  must 
be  something  disreputable  for  Tom  Wharton 
to  do  when  he  gets  there." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  grew  suddenly  pale.  The 
thought  that  came  to  her  leaped  to  her  lips : 
"  Charlie,  don't  you  see  they're  trying  to  su 
gar-coat  a  bribe?  My!  what  a  conscience 
less  rascal  that  Bolton  is !  " 

Mrs.  Rhodes  sat  down  by  her  husband,  and 
the  two  looked  into  space  for  a  moment — she 
with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  he  with  his  fingers 
clasped  back  of  his  head.  The  woman  found 
her  voice  first : 

"  Well,  now,  this  is  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish. 
Have  you  promised  him — Bolton  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  laughed  her  husband,  ruefully ; 
"that's  the  trouble." 

"Well  then,  Charlie,  you  keep  it.  I'd 
rather  see  a  regiment  of  Tom  Whartons  in  the 
Senate — than  that."  Mrs.  Rhodes  added 
68 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

the  last  phrase  after  hunting  for  her  words  : 
for  she  was  a  careful  woman,  and  loved  her 
husband  well. 

The  Governor  went  to  his  desk,  and  going 
said:  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  get  him 
to  release  me." 

"Do  you  suppose  you  can,  Charlie?  I 
hope  you  can.  This  is  a  really  great  oppor 
tunity  for  you.  It  doesn't  come  to  a  man 
often  to  serve  the  people  by  putting  a  clean, 
smart,  bright  man  like  Gardiner  in  the  Sen 
ate."  While  Mrs.  Rhodes  was  speaking  her 
husband  reached  for  the  telephone  transmit 
ter.  After  the  preliminaries  of  the  telephonic 
conversation  were  concluded,  she  heard  her 
husband  say  : 

"  That  you,  Harve  ?    This  is  Rhodes." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  did  not  like  the  familiarity 
after  what  had  occurred,  but  the  monologue 
went  on. 

"  Yes."  A  hollow  laugh  followed — the  kind 
of  laugh  that  has  become  a  part  of  civilized 
expression  with  the  telephone.  A  laugh — 
palpably,  intentionally  funny — preceded  the 
words : 

"  Say,  Harve,  you  haven't  said  anything  to 
him,  have  you  ?  " 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Another  risible  demonstration  followed. 
Then: 

"All  right.  Yes,  yes.  Well,  say,  don't 
tell  anyone  about  it  till  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  wondered  what  was  coming 
on  the  wire.  Her  husband  answered  : 

"  Oh,  no,  not  exactly ;  but  I  want  to  talk 
it  over  again.  Nothing  serious."  Another 
laugh  was  rasped  off,  and  with  "Yes.  All 
right.  That's  all.  Good-by,"  the  Governor 
put  up  the  receiver,  and  his  wife  asked : 
"Now,  how  are  you  going  about  it,  Charlie?" 

"Oh,  heavens!  I  don't  know,  Lizzie;  but 
I'll  fix  it  some  way." 

As  Mrs.  Ehodes  went  down  the  stone  sueps 
of  the  Capitol  a  resolve  began  to  form  itself 
in  her  mind.  It  was  a  nebulous  resolve,  and 
the  sharp  winter  air  in  her  face  almost  blew 
it  away.  When  she  turned  into  the  main 
thoroughfare  of  the  town,  the  panorama  of 
the  street  filled  the  foreground  of  her  thought, 
and  crowded  into  the  shadow  her  half-formed 
intention  to  help  her  husband  in  his  predica 
ment  ;  for  in  the  faces  that  passed  by  her 
Mrs.  Ehodes  took  much  interest.  She  looked 
at  the  bonnets  and  the  gowns  of  the  women, 
and  she  read  strange  stories  in  the  eyes  of 
70 


A    VICTORY    FOR    THE   PEOPLE 

the  passers-by.  She  could  see  all  the  details 
of  the  tragedy  in  a  made-over  gown  on  a  last 
year's  bride.  The  sacrifice  of  a  mother  in  a 
black  straw  hat  and  a  shawl  for  a  spendthrift 
son  reached  Mrs.  Rhodes's  heart.  She  had 
known  the  common  privations  that  often 
come  in  the  course  of  things  to  the  average 
American  home,  and  little  makeshifts  of  dress 
on  those  about  her  painted  for  the  Governor's 
wife  the  home-life  of  the  wearer.  As  a  poli 
tician  passed  her,  she  classified  him  among 
the  sheep  or  the  goats  according  to  the  sup 
port  or  the  trouble  that  he  gave  her  husband. 
Occasionally  there  passed  some  office-seeker 
whose  obsequiousness  vexed  her.  The  reso 
lution  that  hovered  about  her  as  she  came 
down  the  Capitol  steps  had  almost  dissolved 
into  thin  air,  when  a  woman  in  noisy  silks, 
an  aggressive  sealskin  cloak,  and  pronounced 
diamond  earrings  flashed  by  Mrs.  Rhodes 
with  a  gracious  bow.  The  Governor's  wife 
returned  the  salutation  pleasantly  enough, 
and  mechanically  remembered  that  three 
months  before  this  woman  had  come  to  the 
Capitol  wearing  a  green  beaver  jacket  and  a 
hat  in  its  third  season.  Her  husband  was  a 
State  Senator  from  Hancock  County,  and 

71 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

Mrs.  Rhodes  wondered  rather  idly  how  a 
woman  could  flaunt  the  signs  of  her  hus 
band's  dishonor  so  openly.  The  Governor's 
wife  was  reflecting  gratefully  that  she  would 
take  in  washing  before  she  would  allow  her 
husband  to  barter  his  official  acts ;  then  a 
sharp  anguish  gripped  her  throat.  It  struck 
Mrs.  Rhodes  with  a  flash  of  anger  that  she 
could  not  pity  the  State  Senator's  wife  unless 
she  stopped  the  appointment  of  Tom  Whar- 
ton.  Then  it  was  that  the  nebulous  resolve 
froze  into  a  deed,  and  the  heels  of  the  Gov 
ernor's  wife  clicked  on  the  pavement  with  a 
vim  that  would  have  told  one  who  knew  her 
well  that  she  was  bent  upon  a  definite  mis 
sion.  Her  increasing  speed  was  the  only  out 
ward  and  visible  sign  of  her  inward  and  boil 
ing  temper.  The  bland  face  and  the  kindly 
smile  that  greeted  her  acquaintances  would 
have  deceived  the  casual  observer.  Mrs. 
Rhodes  realized  that  she  was  about  to  do  an 
unusual  thing.  She  did  not  shrink  from  the 
visit  to  Bolton's  office.  Every  week  when  he 
was  in  town  the  Corn-Belt  attorney  was  at 
the  Rhodes  home.  Mrs.  Rhodes  knew  him — 
as  she  had  often  told  her  husband — from 
cover  to  cover.  She  had  heard  the  gossip 

72 


A   VICTORY    FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

about  his  work  with  legislators,  but  as  she  be 
lieved  in  his  ends  she  despised  the  men  whose 
cupidity  made  Bolton's  means  necessary. 
She  was  tempted  to  turn  back  at  Bolton's 
door.  She  had  an  instinctive  repugnance  for 
any  sort  of  interference  in  her  husband's 
affairs.  Not  more  than  three  men  knew  how 
much  influence  she  had  in  administrative 
councils.  One  of  these  three  men  was  Bol 
ton.  But  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  knew 
of  his  knowledge  of  her  place  in  the  executive 
cabinet,  Mrs.  Khodes  hesitated  before  intrud 
ing  even  in  a  good  cause.  But  she  brushed 
aside  her  scruples  on  the  threshold ;  and  the 
next  moment  Harvey  K.  Bolton,  who  had 
walked  out  of  the  Governor's  office  rejoicing 
as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race,  who  loved  a 
victory  for  its  own  sake  and  did  not  look  at 
the  superscription  of  the  coin  that  brought 
the  victory,  heard  a  voice  that  made  him 
weak  for  an  instant  and  sick.  He  was  dictat 
ing  a  letter  when  the  voice  first  came  to  him. 
It  was  sweet  and  gentle,  with  not  a  tremor  in 
it,  not  a  sliver  on  its  timber.  "  Is  Mr.  Bol 
ton  in  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  the  clerk  answered. 

A  second  later  Bolton  heard  the  rustle  of 
73 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

skirts,  and  Mrs.  Rhodes  spoke  in  the  ante 
room  for  him  to  hear : 

"Well,  Mr.  Bolton,  is  this  your  busy 
day?" 

Bolton  rose  to  greet  her.  "Why,  Mrs. 
Rhodes,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Come  right 
in." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  did  not  seem  out  of  breath  nor 
flurried.  She  waited  until  the  stenographer 
had  left  the  room,  and  then  drawled,  as  she 
leaned  forward  with  her  elbows  on  the  fore 
arms  of  the  chair : 

"  Tom  Wharton  !  " 

There  was  the  caloric  fury  of  a  woman's 
scorn  in  her  voice,  properly  cooled  by  a  sense 
of  humor  which  kept  the  situation  out  of 
caricature.  Bolton  laughed  with  his  guest, 
and  then  began  to  spar  for  position. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Tom ?  "  inquired 
Bolton,  fumbling  with  a  paper-knife  and 
crossing  his  feet.  "  There  are  worse  fellows 
to  have  for  a  friend  than  Tom,"  he  added. 

He  had  been  looking  at  the  trinket  in  his 
hand  until  he  finished  the  sentence ;  then  he 
glanced  furtively  at  Mrs.  Rhodes  to  see  how 
she  would  take  the  last  of  it.  Mrs.  Rhodes 
parried  it  with  a  good-natured  smile. 
74 


A   VICTORY   FOR    THE    PEOPLE 

"  But  there  is  a  difference  between  a  friend 
in  politics  and  a  Senator  from  your  State." 

Bolton  answered :  "  Take  it  as  a  rule,  the 
fellows  in  politics  are  better  than  the  men  in 
office.  There  has  been  a  scandalous  lot  of 
old  brigands  among  the  official  representa 
tives  of  these  Western  States.  It  has  always 
been  that  way.  Back  in  the  seventies  a  kind 
of  wagon-painter  dropped  into  Topeka,  and 
got  a  contract  to  paint  pictures  of  all  the 
Governors  of  the  State  for  the  Senate  cham 
ber.  He  finished  the  job  before  the  Legislat 
ure  adjourned,  and  some  patron  of  the  arts 
presented  a  resolution  authorizing  the  wagon- 
painter  to  paint  portraits  of  Jim  Lane — Sen 
ator  Lane  who  killed  himself,  you'll  remem 
ber —  and  old  John  Brown.  When  the 
resolution  came  before  the  State  Senate,  an 
old  codger  from  Osborn  County,  who  hadn't 
opened  his  head  during  the  session,  except 
to  throw  drugs,  paints,  and  oils  into  his  blood, 
rose  and  said " 

In  recounting  this  story  Bolton  panto 
mimed  it.  He  was  doing  his  best  to  kill 
time,  in  the  vain  hope  that  some  distracting 
circumstance  might  turn  the  discussion  from 
what  he  knew  to  be  the  object  of  Mrs. 
75 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Bhodes's  visit.  Bolton  continued  his  story: 
"  I  d'sire  to  offer  this  amendment :  Resolved, 
that  when  th'  artist  paints  the  portraits  of 
these  two  great  Kansis  statesmen — these  two 
em'nent  Kausins,  whose  lives  are  so  typical 
of  our  b'loved  State — b'loved  State — that  th' 
artist  is  requested  to  lab'l  the  pictures  so  that 
fusure  gen'rations  may  know  whish  gloris  son 
of  Kansis  was  hung,  and  whish  committed 
suicide." 

When  the  laugh  subsided,  Bolton  added : 
"  As  it  was  in  the  beginning,  so  it  shall  be 
ever  after,  Mrs.  Rhodes.  Tom  Wharton  isn't 
so  bad  when  you  think  of  him  in  comparison 
with  other  Western  Senators." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  was  not  quite  ready  for  the 
fray,  so  she  skirmished :  "  Well,  that's  not 
the  question.  Compare  him  with  Gardiner. 
Gardiner's  a  fine  fellow — a  man  of  brains  and 
honor.  WTiat  this  State  needs  is  that  sort  of 
a  representative,  a  man  of  moral  courage — a 
man  like  you,  for  instance."  She  put  the 
full  stop  of  half  a  dozen  merry  dim  pies  at  the 
end  of  her  sentence,  and  her  eyes  danced. 
Bolton  laughed  with  her,  and  Mrs.  Rhodes 
resumed,  "  Now,  sir,  what  are  you  and  Char 
lie  going  to  sacrifice  your  trump  on  a  two- 
76 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

spot  for  ?  You  owe  a  duty — now  that's  the 
truth,  Harvey  Bolton — you  owe  a  duty  to  the 
people — you,  just  as  surely  as  Charlie — to  piit 
a  strong  man  in  the  Senate  from  this  State,  a 
man  like  Gardiner." 

Bolton  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
jingled  his  keys  as  he  paced  the  rug.  He 
was  irritated,  but  was  too  wise  to  show  it. 
He  turned  to  the  Governor's  wife,  and 
chuckled  as  he  stood  in  front  of  her  chair. 
"So  it's  Gardiner,  is  it?"  he  asked.  Then 
he  spent  a  few  seconds  in  effervescent  fancy, 
and  finally  popped  out,  in  a  fizz  of  merriment : 
"  Now,  honestly,  Mrs.  Ehodes,  don't  you  think 
Tom  Wharton  in  Washington  would  reflect  as 
much  credit  on  this  State  as  Mrs.  Gardiner  in 
her  red  hat  and  her  heliotrope  satin  dress?  " 

Mrs.  Khodes  might  have  laughed  herself 
into  a  surrender,  but  she  stopped  laughing  to 
reply  meditatively :  "  Why  do  you  suppose 
the  wives  of  good  men  and  great  will  insist 
on  red  velvet  in  their  hats  after  they  begin  to 
wear  vermilion  rubber  in  their  teeth  ?  " 

It  was  Bolton's  move,  and  he  had  gained 

nothing  by  his  manoeuvre.     He  answered,  on 

a  venture:  "Well,  now,  Mrs.  Ehodes,  what's 

the  matter  with  Tom  ?     He  has  a  machine. 

77 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

What  of  it?  He  got  it  by  telling  the  truth. 
He  is  in  politics  as  a  business.  What  of 
that?  He  doesn't  sell  out  his  friends.  He 
is  a  bull-dozer ;  but  that's  merely  a  method. 
He  will  take  advice.  He  doesn't  pretend  to 
know  it  all." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  saw  her  advantage.  "  That  is 
all  true;  but  why  are  you  so  anxious  for 
Wharton  just  now,  and  why  do  you  want  to 
spend  $15,000  to  put  him  in  the  Senate?" 

Bolton  grew  grave.  He  replied,  soberly : 
"  You  are  wrong  there,  Mrs.  Rhodes ;  that 
was  to  help  Charlie." 

Bolton  saw  that  the  fencing  was  over.  The 
little  muscles  at  the  corners  of  Mrs.  Rhodes's 
mouth  quivered  an  instant,  then  set.  Her 
eyes  lost  their  softness.  She  faced  the  attor 
ney  and  spoke  carefully,  in  a  low  voice : 
"Mr.  Bolton,  that  offer  was  cruel  of  you — 
cruel  and  ungrateful.  I  have  always  thought 
you  held  Charlie  and  me  in  too  high  esteem 
for  that.  You  know  how  much  the  Senate 
would  mean  to  Charlie  and  to  me  also. 
Have  we  not  been  too  good  friends  with  you 
for  you  to  class  us  with  the  others — the 
cattle  you  buy  ?  Did  you  think  the  Senate 
was  about  our  size  ?  " 

78 


A    VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

Bolton's  features  did  not  move  while  she 
spoke.  She  could  not  tell  whether  his  face 
wore  a  sneer,  or  whether  it  was  curious  at 
tention  that  fixed  his  frank,  clear,  blue  eyes 
upon  her  and  kept  him  still.  He  did  not  re 
ply,  so  she  continued  :  "  Don't  think  I'm  med 
dling.  You  and  Charlie  can  do  as  you  please. 
You  men  pretend  to  be  for  clean  politics.  I 
have  heard  you  talk  about  corruption  and  its 
dangers ;  yet  here  you  are,  at  your  best  op 
portunity,  giving  the  lie  to  your  sentiments, 
and  putting  up  a  disgraceful  deal  to  elevate 
the  sort  of  men  you  deplore.  If  you  go 
ahead  with  this  deal,  you  put  yourself  on  a 
level  with  that  kind  of  men." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  watched  for  some  change  in 
Bolton's  face ;  but  the  eyes  still  met  her  eyes 
fearlessly.  She  did  not  notice,  however,  that 
Bolton's  mouth  was  farther  ajar  than  it  was 
when  she  turned  the  conversation  into  a  mon 
ologue.  Bolton's  right-hand  fingers  were 
drumming  on  the  desk  beside  him,  and  Mrs. 
Rhodes  did  not  notice  how  vigorously  they 
hit  the  oak.  She  could  not  see  that  the 
other  hand  was  rapidly  putting  a  key  on  and 
off  a  ring  in  his  trousers  pocket.  When  the 
right  hand  rested  Mrs.  Rhodes  saw  only  the 
79 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

unblinking  eyes  gazing  toward  her — fathom 
less. 

She  paused,  but  only  for  a  moment.  She 
proceeded :  "  I  don't  think  you  understand 
the  meaning  of  what  you've  offered  to  Charlie 
— your  friend — and  I'm  sure  he  doesn't.  I 
tell  you,  Harvey  Bolton,  it  hurts  to  have  you 
do  what  you've  done — to  try  to  stain  the 
honor  of  a  friend.  It  cuts  deep  to  find  that 
you  are  so  morally  dead  that  you  would 
thoughtlessly  put  me  beside  that  woman  from 
Hancock  County  with  her  sealskins  and  dia 
monds — you  know,  Senator  Wilton's  wife. 
It  hurts  worse  to  know  you  did  this  thought 
lessly  than  to  feel  that  you  did  it  with  mali 
cious  knowledge." 

Bolton  sighed.  His  features  displayed  no 
sign  of  the  meaning  of  the  muscular  act. 
Mrs.  Rhodes  settled  back  in  her  chair.  Her 
ruddy  face  had  grown  white,  and  she  asked, 
sharply  : 

"  How  much  better  am  I,  if  my  husband 
trades  off  his  State's  good  name  for  his  own 
advancement  than  that  poor  creature  whose 
husband  made  the  Corn  Belt  stand  and  de 
liver  sealskins  and  diamonds  for  his  vote 
against  that  absurd  maximum-rate  bill?" 
80 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

Bolton  was  about  to  speak  when  a  messen 
ger-boy  with  a  telegram  came  into  the  room. 
Mrs.  Rhodes  walked  to  the  window,  and 
watched  the  clerks  and  office  people  scurry 
ing  homeward  through  the  approaching  twi 
light.  She  could  not  see  Bolton  flush  almost 
purple.  She  could  not  see  his  steady  eyes 
blink,  nor  could  she  see  him  moisten  his  lips 
with  his  tongue.  She  did  not  see  the  attor 
ney  shut  his  eyes  tightly  and  brush  his  hand 
across  them,  after  he  read  the  telegram.  Bol 
ton  saw  on  the  paper  before  him,  over  the 
signature  of  the  president  of  the  Corn-Belt 
road,  this  message  : 

"  That  appointment  must  be  prevented.  I 
have  just  learned  certainly  that  it  will  hurt 
our  interests.  Take  anyone  but  him  as  a 
compromise."  Bolton  folded  the  telegram 
up,  and  kept  folding  and  unfolding  it,  as  Mrs. 
Rhodes  from  her  station  by  the  window  took 
up  her  monologue : 

"  And  yet,  Mr.  Bolton,  when  the  test  comes, 
you  would  dishonor  us  all.  You  would  bribe 
your  best  friend  to  do  something  you  will  not 
go  to  the  Senate  and  do  yourself.  I  don't 
know  what  it  is." 

Bol ton's  unchanging  expression  made  Mrs. 
81 


STEATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Rhodes  nervous.  In  her  normal  mind,  she 
would  have  found  a  hopeful  sign  in  the  fact 
that  Bolton  kept  creasing  the  telegram.  When 
Mrs.  Rhodes  paused,  he  turned  to  his  desk 
and  wrote  a  few  words.  While  his  back  was 
toward  her  the  woman  said  : 

"  I'm  not  here  asking  you  to  release  Charlie 
from  his  promise.  That  is  between  you  and 
him.  What  I  want  is  that  you  shall  see  what 
you  have  done  just  as  it  is,  and  have  no  false 
lights  to  deceive  you." 

In  the  pause  Governor  Rhodes  entered  the 
room.  Bolton,  who  turned  quickly  from  his 
desk  at  the  sound  of  a  footfall,  regained  self- 
possession  in  an  instant,  and  handed  the 
message  he  had  been  creasing  to  Mrs. 
Rhodes ;  and  the  white  slip  of  paper,  upon 
which  he  had  been  writing  his  answer,  he 
passed  to  the  Governor.  Rhodes  read  the 
words  on  the  white  slip  and  knit  his  brows, 
staring  from  his  wife  to  Bolton  when  he  had 
finished  reading.  Mrs.  Rhodes  looked  up, 
flushed  with  the  first  anger  that  escaped  her 
control,  and  said,  as  she  handed  the  creased, 
crumpled  telegram  from  the  president  of  the 
Cora-Belt  Railroad  back  to  Bolton  : 

"  That  means  Gardiner,  I  suppose." 

82 


A   VICTORY   FOR   THE   PEOPLE 

Bolton  nodded,  and  indicated  with  his  eyes 
that  the  Governor  should  hand  the  white 
paper  slip  in  his  hand  to  his  wife.  Bolton's 
face  did  not  flinch  as  she  read  aloud  the  street 
address  of  the  president  of  the  Corn  Belt  and 
Bolton's  answer  which  followed : 

"  Your  wishes  cannot  be  fulfilled.  Gardi 
ner  has  already  been  appointed." 

Mrs.  Rhodes  leaned  back  in  a  chair  and 
said,  half  in  a  sigh  and  half  in  a  smile  : 
"  Well,  Harvey  K.  Bolton,  your  fortune  is 
not  in  politics ;  it's  in  cards.  What  a  face 
for  poker ! "  And  that  was  all  the  thanks 
that  the  attorney  for  the  Corn  Belt  re 
ceived. 

Bolton  sat  down  and  laughed  quietly. 
Then  he  said  to  the  Governor,  who  was  just 
grasping  the  situation : 

"  Well,  Charlie  Rhodes,  your  wife's  fortune 
isn't  in  cards  ;  it's  in  politics." 

And  yet  in  after  days,  when  Harvey  Bol 
ton  recalled  the  light  in  Mrs.  Rhodes's  liquid 
gray  eyes,  as  she  looked  up  from  his  answer 
to  the  Corn-Belt  president's  telegram,  he 
could  not  for  the  life  of  him  settle  in  his 
mind  whether  that  light  came  from  a  twinkle 
or  a  tear ;  and  being  a  man  of  some  pride  in 
83 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

his  discernment,  he  would  give  a  decent  sum 
to  any  charity  if  he  could  be  sure  that  it  was 
not  a  twinkle. 

And  now  that  the  facts  are  recorded,  it 
may  be  just  as  well  to  know  the  history  of 
this  transaction  which  the  Avorld  accepts. 
Everyone  concedes  that  history  is  written  by 
the  newspapers,  and  here  is  what  the  Morn 
ing  State  Times  printed  about  the  matter  in 
hand.  The  thrilling  leader  in  the  Times  ran 
thus : 

"A  VICTORY  FOB  THE  PEOPLE. 

"  The  appointment  of  John  Gardiner  as 
junior  Senator  from  this  State  by  Governor 
Rhodes  last  night  is  a  magnificent  example  of 
the  power  of  public  opinion.  It  was  clearly 
a  victory  for  the  people.  Ring  rule  was  re 
buked.  The  star  chamber  had  no  part  in  the 
choice.  The  Governor's  ear  bent  to  the 
prairie  grass,  and  he  heard  the  voice  of  the 
masses  demanding  this  appointment.  Here 
tofore  the  Times  has  had  little  to  commend  in 
the  Rhodes  administration  ;  but  we  take  this 
public  opportunity  to  say  that,  in  repulsing 
the  whispering  fixers  and  old  hangers-on  who 
have  disgraced  the  State-house  by  their  pres- 
84 


A   VICTORY    FOR    THE    PEOPLE 

ence,  Governor  Khodes  has  spread  a  thick 
mantle  over  his  multitude  of  sins.  For  once 
he  has  obeyed  his  constituents.  This  was 
indeed  and  in  truth  a  victory  for  the 
people." 


85 


A  TRIUMPH'S   EVIDENCE" 


"A  TRIUMPH'S   EVIDENCE" 

ONE  rainy  night,  late  in  the  spring,  Henry 
Myton  came  home  to  Pleasant  Ridge. 
The  lights  in  the  great  Colorado  express  train, 
reflecting  from  a  thousand  pools  in  the  road, 
and  the  dingy,  smoking  lamp  in  the  town 
omnibus,  were  the  only  pyrotechnics  that 
greeted  him.  His  trunk  crashed  upon  the 
rickety  baggage-truck,  the  conductor  waved 
the  signal,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the 
impatient  glowing  dragon  had  wormed  by ; 
the  ruby  jewel  in  the  switching  tail  of  it  was 
fading  in  the  distance ;  and  the  rain  and  the 
dark  and  the  petulant  spring  wind  were  left 
to  frolic  over  the  village.  Henry  Myton 
climbed  into  the  musty  'bus  and  listened  to 
the  splashing  of  the  horses  in  the  sloppy 
roads.  No  street-lamp  marked  their  way,  and 
to  Mytou  it  seemed  that  the  vehicle  was 
circling  round  and  round.  Just  before  he 
gave  up  to  sea-sickness,  the  long  scraping 
sound  of  a  cramped  wheel  and  the  jerking 
89 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

movement  of   the  running-gear   told   Myton 
that  he  was  near  his  journey's  end. 

He  scurried  across  the  sidewalk  into  the 
office  of  the  hotel.  It  was  a  plain  room.  A 
high  counter  ran  parallel  to  one  wall.  On  the 
counter  was  a  tarnished  cigar-case  and  a  dog 
eared  register.  Opposite  the  counter  stood 
an  ink-stained  desk,  surmounted  by  a  gaudy 
business  directory,  ten  years  out  of  date. 
Near  by  was  a  long  sink  that  held  a  water- 
bucket  and  an  earthen  wash-bowl,  over  which 
hung  two  towels.  These,  and  a  threshing- 
machine  lithograph,  some  patent  medicine 
prints,  and  a  big  handbill  announcing  a  pub 
lic  sale,  were  the  mural  decorations  of  the 
room.  However,  there  had  been  a  time  when 
those  walls  seemed  palatial  to  Henry  My 
ton.  Ten  years  before  that  rainy  spring 
night,  he  had  received  his  first  five-hundred 
dollar  check,  after  winning  the  Nellie  Gordon 
murder  case.  He  never  came  back  to  the  As- 
tor  House,  Pleasant  Ridge,  without  smiling  at 
the  recollection  of  the  vain  figure  he  cut  then, 
leaning  upon  his  elbows,  with  his  back  against 
the  high  counter,  puffing  a  ten-cent  cigar, 
squintiug  his  eyes  wisely,  and  talking  of  the 
famous  victory.  Triumphs — minor  triumphs 
90 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

had  come  to  Myton  in  that  room.  lu  the 
corner  by  the  wash-stand  he  made  the  com 
bination  that  brought  him  the  nomination  to 
the  State  Senate.  That  dog-eared  register 
contained  the  names  of  the  committeemen 
who  notified  him  of  his  second  congressional 
nomination. 

In  the  old  bed  that  creaked  a  familiar  wel 
come  for  his  home-coming  on  that  rainy 
night,  Myton  took  two  hours  before  midnight 
to  consider  his  past,  his  future,  and  more  es 
pecially  his  palpable  present.  He  found  the 
prospect  distinctly  different  then  and  there, 
from  the  prospect  he  had  surveyed  occasion 
ally  in  the  little  chromo  of  a  park  in  front  of 
the  Norrnandie  Hotel,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 
Myton  was  a  congressman  who  had  come 
back.  In  an  expansive  moment  early  in  Jan 
uary,  Myton  made  a  speech,  recanting  the 
currency  view  proclaimed  in  the  platform  on 
which  he  had  been  elected  fourteen  months 
before.  The  doctrine  that  he  championed  in 
that  speech  was  deemed  heretical  by  his  party 
in  the  district.  His  constituency  was  furious. 
His  party  convention  met  in  March,  and 
Myton  was  defeated  for  the  nomination  by  a 
man  named  Beale.  It  all  happened  so  quickly 
91 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

that  Myton  had  barely  begun  to  explain  his 
speech,  when  "  the  subsequent  proceedings 
interested  him  no  more."  He  remained  in 
Washington  until  the  end  of  the  tedious  ses 
sion,  and  came  home  to  find  out  definitely 
what  had  hit  him. 

His  presence  in  Pleasant  Bldge  was  proof 
of  his  ambition  and  of  his  wisdom.  Four 
years  in  Washington  had  furrowed  a  few  lines 
about  his  mouth,  and  had  put  a  touch  of  pre 
mature  gray  at  his  temples  that  contrasted 
admirably  with  the  alert  look  in  his  deep-set 
eyes.  The  spark  of  youth  lighted  his  coun 
tenance  and  made  it  good  to  look  upon. 
During  his  four  years  at  the  capital  there  had 
come  into  his  smile  a  certain  expression  of 
worldly  wisdom,  and  the  lines  about  his 
mouth  seemed  fortifications  built  by  a  serious, 
mastering  ambition,  that  checked  the  smile 
and  kept  it  in  metes  and  bounds.  Myton  had 
learned  many  things  at  Washington.  He  went 
there  in  a  Prince  Albert  coat  and  a  made-up 
white  necktie  ;  he  came  back  in  a  cutaway  coat 
and  a  red  Ascot ;  he  replaced  his  tile  with  a 
hat  of  softer  fabric.  He  traded  many  an  il 
lusion  about  the  giants  in  the  Senate  as  well 
as  in  the  House  for  the  disenchanting  kuowl- 
93 


edge  that  his  heroes  were  not  above  bickering 
for  places  upon  committees  of  which  Myton 
in  Pleasant  Ridge  had  never  dreamed. 

It  was  early  that  spring  morning  after  his 
return  from  Washington,  when  Myton  awoke 
in  his  old  bed  in  the  Astor  House — so  early 
that  only  a  single  wagon  track  had  been  cut 
in  the  muddy  main  street  in  front  of  his  win 
dow.  Yet  the  sound  of  the  steak-pounding 
in  the  kitchen  below  announced  that  the  busi 
ness  day  in  Pleasant  Eidge  was  about  to  be 
gin.  He  whistled  with  some  show  of  gayety 
as  he  dressed.  Frequently  he  looked  up  and 
down  the  squatty  little  street  with  its  sprawl 
ing  buildings  and  their  ugly  wooden  awnings. 
He  could  see  the  prairie  lying  in  wait  on  the 
hill  and  the  creek  crouching  below — each 
checking  the  growth  of  the  unpainted  little 
thoroughfare.  The  tune  that  he  whistled  re 
minded  him  of  the  street  piano  that  taught 
him  the  tune,  and  that  brought  back  the  gay 
capital  with  all  its  frivolity,  all  its  beauty,  all 
its  mad  vanity.  For  the  moment  Myton  forgot 
his  room  in  the  Astor  House,  Pleasant  Eidge, 
and  "  dwelt  in  marble  halls." 

Myton  rented  a  room  over  the  bank  in  due 
time  and  gathered  up  what  ragged  ends  of  his 
93 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

former  law  practice  he  could  find.  For  nearly 
a  month  he  sat  upon  his  revolving  chair  and 
seemed  to  loaf,  inviting  his  soul.  But  he  was 
really  getting  his  land  legs  after  his  voyage 
upon  the  political  sea.  Two  or  three  interest 
ing  criminal  cases  with  important  fees  gave 
him  something  to  do.  In  June  the  National 
convention  of  his  party  formed  a  currency 
plank  which  endorsed  Myton's  January  speech, 
and  made  absurd  the  platform  adopted  by  the 
District  convention  in  March.  Myton  dis 
couraged  those  who  suggested  that  he  run  for 
Congress  on  a  bolting  ticket ;  instead,  he  went 
about  his  law  business — a  wise  course  to  pur 
sue  for  a  young  man  with  aspirations,  as  Sam 
King,  Chairman  of  the  State  Central  Com 
mittee,  told  others  besides  Myton  at  the  time. 
Myton  took  up  his  life  in  the  town,  resuming 
his  place  in  the  personal  regard  of  the  people. 
Although  he  was  out  of  favor  with  the  Con 
gressional  Committee  in  the  district,  he  kept 
friends  with  the  State  Central  Committee,  and 
occasionally  wrote  jocular  letters  to  Sam  King, 
the  State  Chairman,  about  the  progress  of  the 
campaign.  He  made  a  few  speeches  in  ad 
joining  districts  and  once  crossed  the  Missis 
sippi  to  help  a  Congressional  colleague  who 
94 


"A  TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

was  in  the  thick  of  a  hot  fight.  But  Myton 
saw  that  it  was  not  his  year  for  politics  and 
avoided  the  heat  of  the  battle  then  waging. 
Still  at  times  there  came  to  him  homesick 
dreams  of  the  wide  smooth  lawn  back  of  the 
White  House,  of  the  Marine  band  playing  in 
the  sunset  light,  of  the  women  moving  by  in 
pretty  organdies  and  silks,  of  the  Presidential 
party  bowing  pleasantly  in  the  piazza,  and  the 
play  of  colors  and  the  concord  of  sweet  sound 
through  it  all. 

He  had  leisure,  oceans  of  leisure,  during  the 
long  summer  afternoons,  and  during  the  sum 
mer  evenings,  when  the  stores  in  Pleasant 
Kidge  closed  at  twilight,  time  pressed  upon 
him  heavily.  He  craved  some  substitute  for 
the  life  he  had  left.  So,  rather  unconsciously 
than  otherwise,  the  nervous  tendrils  of  his 
being  finding  one  support  gone,  reached  out 
to  grapple  what  they  might,  and  they  found 
and  clung  to  a  young  woman. 

Myton  never  knew  just  when  Judge  Fair 
banks  and  his  wife  began  to  slip  away, 
leaving  Myton  and  Julia  together  on  the 
wide  veranda.  But  one  August  night,  when 
the  harvest  moon  was  shedding  a  ghostly 
whiteness  on  the  haze,  and  a  screech  owl  was 
95 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

complaining  in  a  distant  orchard,  Myton  and 
Julia  Fairbanks  were  sitting  alone  when  the 
clock  struck  eleven.  Myton  then  made  the 
important  discovery  that  he  was  not  making 
a  family  call. 

When  he  stopped,  half  a  block  from  the 
house,  to  light  his  cigar,  he  reflected  that  Julia 
Fairbanks  was  a  clever  girl.  He  wondered 
what  interest  a  girl  who  had  been  educated  at 
Wellesley  could  find  at  Pleasant  Kidge.  He 
ran  over  the  list  of  the  town's  boys  of  her  age, 
sons  of  the  butcher,  the  baker,  the  candle-stick 
maker,  and  of  the  members  of  the  liberal  pro 
fessions  of  the  village,  and  tried  to  guess 
which  of  them  would  please  her.  The  next 
day  her  image  crowded  itself  between  his  eyes 
and  a  law  book,  and  he  cast  up  her  years  and 
found  that  they  were  twenty-three  or  four.  He 
tried  to  recall  her  while  she  was  growing  up, 
but  it  seemed  to  Myton  that  the  last  time  he 
had  seen  her,  before  that  spring,  she  was  wear 
ing  toe-slippers  with  white  stockings,  and 
white  tarlatan  skirts  covered  with  silver  pa 
per  spangles — the  good  fairy  in  "  Cinderella," 
at  the  Methodist  Sunday-school  Christmas- 
tree.  It  puzzled  Myton  to  account  for  the 
transformation  of  the  pipe-voiced  child  into 
96 


"A  TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

the  demure  young  woman  who  discussed  Ibsen 
and  the  world's  bread-stuff  supply,  and  who 
rejoiced  in  "  The  Taking  of  Lungtungpen." 

Soon  thereafter  the  scales  fell  from  Myton's 
eyes  and  he  saw  with  a  new  vision.  Some 
such  fine  frenzy  as  poets  must  feel  came  upon 
him,  and  the  homely  aspects  of  nature  were 
gi]decl  by  the  glamour  of  a  lover's  eyes.  He 
took  hold  of  his  work  and  his  life  with  a 
fresh,  tight  grip.  Certain  ideals,  entirely  new 
to  him,  grew  into  his  being,  and  he  found  him 
self  putting  his  new  principles  into  practice 
in  the  unimportant  matters  that  came  to  him 
in  his  daily  routine. 

Beale,  who  had  defeated  Myton  for  the 
nomination  in  the  March  convention,  was 
beaten  at  the  polls  in  November.  The  nom 
ination  two  years  thereafter  was  open  to  My 
ton,  if  he  could  rally  his  friends.  He  was 
watching  the  situation  eagerly,  and  he  report 
ed,  enthusiastically,  his  little  advantages  to 
Julia  Fairbanks  as  the  days  developed  them. 
He  told  her  all  his  plans,  and  much  of  their 
talk  was  a  discussion  of  the  lofty  places  of  his 
ambition.  The  courtship  of  Myton  and  Julia 
Fairbanks  developed  nothing  extraordinary. 
After  Myton  acquired  Sunday  night  at  the 
97 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Fairbanks  parlor,  he  claimed  Wednesday  night 
by  right  of  possession — and  that  long  before 
either  of  the  young  people  interested  would 
have  admitted  that  there  was  a  prearrange- 
in  en  t  for  the  occupancy  of  the  evening.  By 
the  time  Wednesdays  and  Sundays  were  tac 
itly  acknowledged  as  pre-empted  claims  in 
the  social  territory  of  the  pair,  an  occasional 
Monday  or  Friday  was  added  by  a  quit-claim 
deed,  and  henceforth  became  sacred  ground 
by  tradition.  Judge  Fairbanks  and  his  wife 
soon  learned  to  observe  the  Parlor  Law. 
When  Mrs.  Fairbanks  came  into  the  room  she 
sat  on  the  edge  of  her  chair,  and  appeared  to 
be  anxious  about  something  going  on  in  the 
kitchen.  She  never  let  the  importunities  of 
Myton  persuade  her  to  stay.  The  Judge  did 
not  readily  learn  his  lesson,  and  so  late  as 
October,  he  was  liable  to  sit  in  the  parlor  and 
talk  county  politics  an  hour  after  all  honest 
men  should  be  in  bed.  He  broke  off  this 
habit  suddenly,  and  Julia  wondered  vaguely  a 
number  of  things  which  she  would  not  have 
asked  her  mother  about  for  the  world.  If  the 
ways  of  a  man  with  a  maid  are  like  the  ways 
of  an  eagle  in  the  air,  and  of  a  serpent  on  a 
rock,  and  of  a  ship  in  the  midst  of  the  sea, 


which  are  too  deep  for  philosophy — who  shall 
even  dare  to  fancy  what  may  be  the  ways  of 
a  maid  with  a  man ! 

The  November  night  before  My  ton  left  for 
Washington  to  sit  in  the  short  session  of  Con 
gress,  the  fire  in  the  grate  lighted  the  Fair 
banks  parlor.  Myton  was  restless  and  for  a 
time  paced  the  rug.  Julia  Fairbanks  sat  in 
the  dusk  and  flashed  in  and  out  of  reality. 
The  shadows  played  enticingly  with  the  lines 
of  her  figure.  The  black  of  her  crinkly  hair 
remained  in  shade,  framing  her  oval  face, 
which  never  entirely  faded  from  view.  The 
red  of  her  lips,  the  glow  of  her  cheeks,  and 
the  witcherjr  of  her  eyes,  were  before  Myton, 
however  low  the  flames  might  sink.  Myton's 
talk  was  choppy  at  first.  He  sat  in  front  of 
the  grate,  with  the  fire-poker  in  his  hands, 
and  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  was  silent. 
The  tall  blaze  grew  smaller  and  smaller,  and 
the  furniture  in  the  room  went  back  into  the 
gloom.  Julia  Fairbanks  went  to  the  piano 
and  played  "  Traumerei  "  gently,  with  her  foot 
upon  the  pianissimo  pedal.  The  notes  of  the 
melody  and  the  restful  sequence  of  the  har 
mony  always  soothed  Myton,  and  in  the  ritual 
of  their  freemasonry  "  Traumerei  "  was  a  hail- 
90 


STKATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

ing  sign  of  sympathy.  The  approaching  leave- 
taking  stirred  Myton's  heart,  and  strange 
aspirations  were  rising  from  its  depths. 
When  the  girl  had  finished  playing  she  drew 
her  chair  near  the  fire.  Myton  looked  at  her, 
as  he  was  wont  to  do,  for  a  minute  in  silence. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  fire.  She  waited  and 
looked  into  the  fire  with  him. 

"Julia,"  said  Myton,  when  the  spirit  had 
moved  his  lips,  "I'm  sure  it  was  for  the 
best." 

She  looked  her  question  with  frank,  friendly 
eyes. 

"I  mean  the  defeat  last  March.  It  was  the 
best  thing  that  has  ever  happened  to  me.  I 
was  a  pretty  poor  excuse  of  a  man  a  year 
ago."  He  turned  toward  the  fire  again  and 
continued :  "  I  was  selfish  ;  I  was  little ;  I  was 
tricky ;  I  was  eaten  up  with  an  ambition  to 
win  my  game  at  any  cost.  I  had  sense  enough 
to  be  honest.  But  at  heart  I  was  a  scoundrel. 
I  know  it.  I  didn't  sell  my  vote — but,  per 
haps,  I  was  never  offered  my  price." 

He  punched  the  fire  and  brought  Julia 
Fairbanks  a  little  nearer  to  him  by  lighting 
the  room. 

"  Julia,  you've  helped,"  Myton  continued. 
100 


"A  TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

He  was  not  a  voluble  man  and  he  spoke  the 
language  of  the  soul  in  halting  phrases. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Julia,  that  the  first  four 
months  of  my  life  here  this  summer  were 
spent  looking  out  of  my  office  window  for 
your  sailor  hat  and  that  pink  shirt-waist  you 
wore.  When  I  saw  them  on  the  street  of  an 
afternoon,  I  was  happy  for  hours." 

He  meant  it  for  a  fine  speech,  but  both 
smiled  and  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  failure.  In 
an  abashed  fervor  Myton  went  on : 

"  Julia,  I  want  to  be  a  clean,  honest  man. 
Do  you  see  ?  I  had  never  thought  much  about 
it  before,  but  this  summer  I've  had  time  to 
think."  Julia  Fairbanks  nodded  a  response 
and  Myton  resumed  his  monologue  : 

"I  have  only  once  to  live  and  I've  got  to 
live  with  myself.  I  want  to  live  so  that  I'll  be 
good  company  to  myself  when  I'm  an  old 
man.  I'm  going  back  to  "Washington  to-mor 
row  and  I  propose  to  try  to  make  my  record 
worthy  of  my  best  ideals.  I  want  to  amount 
to  something.  I  want  to  make  it ;  but  I  don't 
want  to  have  to  write  '  hypocrite '  after  my 
name  every  time  I  see  it  in  print." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  The  mood  for 
which  the  man  had  not  found  adequate  words 
101 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

was  upon  the  woman  also.  It  set  their  hearts 
a-flutter,  and  their  mouths  would  fain  speak 
impassioned  things.  The  wind  of  the  prairie 
was  moaning  a  dirge  outside  and  Julia  Fair 
banks  shuddered.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  inquired 
Myton. 

"Oh,  nothing.  Just  a  fancy.  Just  the 
wind." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  persisted  Myton. 

Julia  Fairbanks  leaned  a  little  into  the 
light,  which  illumined  her  smile — a  warm 
smile  which  sank  into  Henry  Myton's  heart 
and  glowed  there. 

"  It's  just  a  foolish  notion  about  the  wind," 
she  continued  gently,  as  she  stared  into  the 
fire.  "It  seems  to  bear  upon  it  the  souls  of 
the  dead,  and  they  go  crying  by — sobbing  for 
their  lost  happiness.  They  seem  so  desolate 
out  there  on  the  wind,  away  from  us  all, 
doomed  to  their  eternal  chase  over  the  world 
— so  restless — so  hopeless,  and  some  clay  I 
may  ride  with  them.  It's  so  lonely  out  there, 
Henry,  so  lonely." 

The   moan    of   the   prairie  surf   rose   like 

a   distant    diapason.      Myton    started    from 

his  chair  impulsively.     The  spell  upon  his 

tongue  was  loosened  for  a  moment,  and  he 

102 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

spoke  all  the  poetry  that  was  throbbing  in 
his  soul. 

"  No,  no,  Julia,  I  feel  to-night  that  those 
voices  on  the  wind  come  from  souls  that  have 
found  their  mates.  They  are  singing  love- 
songs.  I  shall  ride  '  the  wind  that  blows  be 
tween  the  worlds  '  a  thousand  years,  hunting 
for  you,  Julia,  for  with  you  I  shall  find 
peace." 

The  room  was  almost  dark ;  but  Myton  saw 
the  girl's  lips  and  eyes  and  met  her  smile  in 
a  rapture. 

He  made  the  flames  leap  up  in  the  grate, 
and  a  few  moments  later  he  was  at  the  door. 
He  held  her  hand  tightly  and  said  only, 

"  Well,  good-by,  Julia." 

She  stood  for  a  second  watching  him,  and 
before  she  closed  the  door  Myton  came  back. 
He  caught  both  her  hands. 

"You  will  listen  to  my  ghosts,  not  yours, 
on  the  wind  while  I  am  gone — won't  you? 
Oh,  Julia,  Julia,  I  do  want  to  be  a  good  man 
for  you." 

In  another  instant  he  had  faced  about  and 
was  walking  down  the  lawn  path  into  the 
night. 

Myton  wrote  Julia  Fairbanks  a  letter  at 
103 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Chicago  on  his  way  to  the  Capitol.  There 
after  Myton's  mail  contained  two  square  en 
velopes  a  week,  and  Pleasant  Ridge  gossips 
watched  Judge  Fairbanks's  box  in  the  post- 
office  for  the  envelope  with  the  blue  engraved 
letters  upon  it. 

In  Congress  Henry  Myton  stood  for  what 
the  newspapers  called  the  decent  thing.  No 
scandal  had  ever  tainted  his  name.  He  had 
formed  friendships  among  the  strong  men  of 
the  house,  and  he  had  a  literary  knack  of 
writing  his  speeches  that  gave  him  some 
reputation  in  that  clique  of  senators,  mostly 
from  the  East,  who  know  one  another  social 
ly,  and  who  control  in  a  great  measure  the 
actions  of  the  Upper  House  of  the  National 
Legislature.  Sometimes  Myton  was  invited 
to  political  dinners  where  the  leaders  of  his 
party  met  and  formed  policies.  He  was  con 
sidered  a  coming  man.  When  he  came  back 
to  sit  out  the  short  session,  he  still  held  his 
friends,  but  his  power  was  gone.  He  felt 
this  keenly,  yet  he  was  sustained  by  the 
ozone  of  a  great  passion,  and  its  stimulation. 
He  saw  his  duty  and  he  did  it  with  a  serenity 
that  was  almost  felicity.  But  he  missed 
Julia  Fairbanks.  He  habitually  found  him- 
104 


"A  TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

self  wishing  to  share  with  her  the  pleasures 
of  his  life  at  Washington.  This  gave  tangi 
ble  substance  to  his  hope  to  bring  her  back 
with  him  some  day.  He  planned  the  life  he 
would  lead  with  her,  speculated  upon  the 
people  whom  they  would  know,  and  weighed 
in  fancy  the  probability  of  her  admiration  or 
her  dislike  for  everything  in  the  capital,  from 
the  Congressional  Library  Building  to  the 
statue  of  Lincoln  paying  his  laundry  bill  near 
the  City  Hall. 

In  the  meantime  Myton  was  watching  in 
tently  the  senatorial  contest  progressing  in 
his  State.  The  Legislature  which  met  in  Jan 
uary  was  controlled  by  Myton's  party,  and  a 
senator  of  the  opposite  faith  was  at  the  end 
of  his  term.  A  dead-lock  in  the  party  caucus 
occurred.  For  sixty  days  Myton  withstood  the 
temptation  that  came  in  letters  and  telegrams, 
urging  him,  commanding  him,  pleading  with 
him,  to  come  home  and  help  one  side  or  an 
other.  His  political  judgment  warned  him 
away  from  the  fight.  But  in  the  leonine  days 
of  early  March,  when  he  learned  that  Julia 
Fairbanks  would  visit  an  aunt  at  the  State 
capital,  Myton  started  homeward. 

The  senatorial  dead-lock  in  Mytoii's  party 

105 


STRATAGEMS    AXD    SPOILS 

caucus  occurred  this  way :  Anything  to  beat 
King,  the  State  Chairman,  was  the  desire  of 
forty-four  legislators.  Fifty-one  were  willing 
to  do  anything  to  elect  him  ;  six  men  voted 
patiently  for  State  Senator  Metcalf,  day  in 
and  day  out,  while  three  legislators  insisted 
that  there  must  be  a  clean  man  or  there  would 
be  no  nomination.  It  took  fifty-three  votes 
to  nominate.  In  the  last-named  group  were 
State  Senator  Moulton,  and  two  young  men 
— Haff  and  Norris,  alumni  of  the  State  uni 
versity.  These  men  were  Myton's  friends, 
and  one,  whom  he  called  Billy  Haff,  was  his 
classmate.  This  group  was  dubbed  the  Ladies' 
Auxiliary.  King  was  supported  by  the  party 
machine,  and  he  held  his  men  in  bonds  strong 
er  than  iron ;  the  men  opposed  to  him  were 
the  party  malcontents,  who  had  grievances 
against  the  machine — personal,  vicarious,  or 
imagined.  The  anti-King  men  said  that  Joab 
T.  Barton,  President  of  the  Corn  Belt  Rail 
road,  whose  name  was  commonly  linked  with 
scandal  in  State  politics,  was  furnishing  King 
with  funds.  The  anti-King  vote  kept  bobbing 
about  in  blocks  of  twenties  and  thirties,  more 
or  less,  complimenting  first  one  and  then  an 
other  of  King's  enemies.  The  gentlemen  of 
100 


"A  TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

the  Ladies'  Auxiliary  voted  for  all  sorts  of 
impossible  candidates. 

When  Myton  arrived  at  the  State  capital 
he  lounged  through  the  upper  corridors  of  the 
political  hotel  for  an  hour  or  so  during  the 
morning,  sifting  and  weighing  the  gossip.  It 
seemed  to  Myton  that  the  personality  of  King 
was  the  strongest  force  in  the  crowd.  Every 
one  was  bending  his  energies  either  to  help 
King  or  to  hinder  him — but  it  was  always 
King  that  was  under  discussion.  Myton  noted 
curiously  that  men  whom  he  had  considered 
exactly  honest  and  exceptionally  intelligent 
were  rallying  with  King,  whose  campaign  was 
evidently  a  network  of  intrigue,  and  many  of 
whose  henchmen  were  branded  in  State  pol 
itics  as  venal  and  notoriously  corrupt.  But 
Myton  was  gauging  men  and  measures  by  a 
recently  acquired  set  of  ideals. 

My  ton's  arrival  at  the  State  capital  was  the 
day's  event.  A  morning  paper  declared  that 
he  would  be  the  first  piece  of  fresh  meat  that 
had  been  thrown  into  the  menagerie  for  six 
weeks.  Myton  evaded  reportorial  questions 
about  the  senatorial  situation  so  nicely  that 
one  reporter  for  an  afternoon  paper  wrote  My 
ton  up  as  "The  Tar  Baby,"  with  King  as 
107 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

"  Bre'er  Fox "  and  the  anti-King  faction  as 
"Bre'er  Rabbit." 

On  the  afternoon  of  his  first  day  Myton 
opened  his  watch  every  half  hour.  Julia  Fair- 
banks's  train  from  Pleasant  Ridge  was  due  at 
the  capital  at  four  o'clock.  At  two  o'clock 
King  captured  Myton  and  led  him  out  of 
the  crowd.  In  King's  room  Myton  sat  with 
his  leg  over  the  arm  of  a  rickety  rocking- 
chair,  while  King,  stocky,  florid,  but  agile, 
stood  before  the  chair.  King  had  sharp, 
cynical  brown  eyes  and  loose  set  lips,  that 
twitched  expressively  ;  a  little  tuft  of  red  hair 
crept  down  by  each  ear.  He  looked  like  the 
foreman  of  a  ditch  gang  in  Sunday  toggery. 
He  spoke  to  Myton  in  a  dry,  hard  tone,  beat 
ing  a  sort  of  tune  with  a  pudgy  index  finger 
which  pointed  at  Mytoii's  nose. 

"  Henry,  have  you  lit  yet  ?  "  Myton,  who 
was  thinking  that  Julia  Fairbanks's  train  must 
be  somewhere  near  Walnut  at  that  moment, 
shook  his  head.  He  dreaded  the  termination 
of  the  interview.  He  feared  to  break  friend 
ship  with  King ;  yet  Myton  hesitated  before 
deepening  the  alliance  that  existed.  For 
King,  as  Chairman  of  the  State  Central  Com 
mittee,  Myton  had  the  utmost  respect.  For 
108 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

King,  if  he  bad  chosen  to  become  warden  of 
the  penitentiary,  Myton  would  have  worked 
with  efficient  enthusiasm.  But  for  King  in 
the  United  States  Senate,  Myton  felt  an  ir 
ritating  moral  revulsion  which  he  could  not 
define,  and  which  was  put  in  the  shadow  by 
the  disquieting  sense  that  it  would  be  imprac 
ticable  to  an  important  degree  to  make  an 
enemy  of  King.  When  Myton  gave  a  nega 
tive  nod  to  his  head,  he  was  about  decided  to 
use  diplomacy. 

"  All  right,  then,  son,  I  need  you.  I  have 
got  to  have  you  in  this  fight."  This  came 
after  King  had  paced  the  room  twice.  His 
brown  Irish  eyes  were  poking  about  in  My- 
ton's  countenance  trying  to  fix  his  gaze. 
Myton  looked  at  him  suddenly,  and  fancied 
that  the  brown  eyes  were  kept  from  shifting 
by  sheer  force  of  will.  Myton  thought  he  would 
tell  that  to  Julia  Fairbanks,  and  he  saw  the 
dimple  sink  in  her  cheek.  Smiling  inwardly 
he  damned  King  and  replied  : 

"  What  can  I  do,  Colonel,  I've  expired,  I'm 
cancelled.  I  ain't  in  it.  Why  don't  you  talk 
to  the  people  now  on  earth  ?  " 

Myton  looked  at  his  watch  when  the  parley 
began,  and  figured  out  that  Julia  Fairbanks 
109 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

was  passing  Cedar  Grove.  When  he  fancied 
that  she  was  at  Belton,  ten  miles  nearer  the 
capital  than  the  Grove,  Myton  saw  that  the 
lariat  of  his  diplomacy  was  getting  rather 
tight,  for  King  was  saying : 

"  Henry,  you  ain't  dead,  and  if  you  are,  I 
can  just  about  perform  a  miracle  on  you.  If 
you'll  listen  to  me  two  or  three  minutes  I  can 
shoot  a  little  elixir  of  life  into  you  that  will 
tone  you  up  a  whole  lot.  See  here  :  You  can 
fix  that  Ladies'  Auxiliary  gang  for  me.  They 
believe  you  are  a  lovely  character  and  can 
crochet  tidies,  and  what  you  say  goes.  They 
think  I've  got  horns  and  hoofs  and  a  forked 
tail.  None  of  my  fellows  can  get  next  to  them. 
You  can."  King  was  walking  up  and  down 
the  room.  Myton  tried  to  interject  a  protest; 
but  King  continued :  "  I  absolutely  know 
that  them  pie-faced  kids  will  vote  for  me,  if 
you'll  tell  'em  I'm  straight — you  know — that 
I'm  all  right.  Square  these  damn  stories 
they're  telling  about  me — the,  the — you  know 
the  railroad  bill  business  and  the — that — story 
about  the  gamblers — damn  lies  out  of  whole 
cloth." 

King's  embarrassment  in  the  latter  part  of 
his  declaration  was  so  evident  that  Myton's 
110 


amusement  dominated  his  caution  and  he 
gave  King  a  left-over  smile  that  was  intended 
for  Julia  Fairbanks.  King  found  encourage 
ment,  took  a  jug  from  the  lower  compartment 
of  the  wash-stand  and  began  pouring  brown 
liquor  into  a  thick  water-tumbler. 

"Here's  a  little  somethin'  pretty  fair,"  said 
King,  as  he  balanced  the  neck  of  the  jug  on 
the  tumbler's  edge.  But  Myton  waved  the 
liquor  aside.  King  emptied  the  glass,  smack 
ing  his  lips  to  get  the  last  drop.  Myton  had 
seen  King  in  action  before.  The  younger 
man's  trained  eye  caught  in  the  elder  man's 
face  certain  unmistakable  signs  which  indi 
cated  that  the  important  part  of  the  meeting 
was  about  to  develop.  The  choppers  and  roll 
ers  and  hammers  and  burnishers  of  Myton's 
mind  were  working  with  lightning  speed,  mak 
ing  a  decision.  They  worked  almost  involun 
tarily,  and  the  motive  that  moved  them  was 
not  ambition,  nor  discretion,  but  a  high  im 
pulse.  For  the  charm  of  Julia  Fairbanks 
held  him  in  a  spell.  King,  with  his  hands 
locked  behind  him,  paced  the  floor  and  con 
tinued  : 

"  What's  the  matter  with  this  proposition, 
Henry?  You  make  me  a  senator  and  I'll 
111 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

make  you  a  congressman.  You  can  do  it  just 
as  easy  as  rollin'  off  a  log.  And  I  can  fence 
up  that  nomination  bog-tight  for  you.  Beale 
is  beaten ;  he's  out  of  it,  and  you  and  I  can 
get  you  that  nomination  on  a  silver  platter." 

King's  words  grappled  with  My  ton's 
impulse,  and  Julia  Fairbanks's  thrall  was 
almost  broken.  To  return  to  Congress  meant 
much  to  Henry  Myton. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Before 
King  opened  it,  he  said,  holding  his  hand  on 
the  door-knob : 

"  Here  come  the  cherubs.  All  you  got  to 
do  is  to  stand  by  me  and  you  go  to  Congress. 
What  do  you  say,  Henry  ?  " 

The  knocking  was  repeated. 

"It's  all  right,  ain't  it?  "  asked  King. 

Myton  had  risen  and  was  leaning  against  a 
table.  He  was  buttoning  his  square-cut, 
double-breasted  coat.  He  replied : 

"  Well,  let  'em  come  in  anyhow,  and  we'll 
talk  it  over." 

Haff  and  Norris  entered.  An  embarrass 
ing  minute  passed  with  trivial  formalities. 
Then  King  plunged  into  the  matter  nearest 
his  heart. 

"  Gentlemen,  I've  got  to  have  you  with  me 
112 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

in  this  fight.  You  two  boys  can  make  me  a 
United  States  senator.  If  I  am  elected  I 
shall  owe  you  more  than  anyone  else.  My 
first  obligation  will  be  to  you.  You've  heard 
a  lot  of  rough  things  about  me ;  but  did  any 
one  ever  tell  you  I'd  lie  ?  Don't  you  sup 
pose  that  if  I'd  ever  deserted  a  friend  he 
would  be  here  to  accuse  me  now  ?  I  know 
why  you  haven't  voted  for  me.  I  couldn't 
convince  you  that  all  this  stuff  they've  been 
peddling  about  me  is  lies.  But  you  know 
Henry  Myton.  You  know  what  he  stands 
for.  He  has  come  all  the  way  from  Wash 
ington  to  tell  you  just  what  kind  of  a  fellow 
1  am."  Myton  fixed  his  eyes  upon  King 
during  the  recital  of  the  electioneering  pat 
ter,  and  thought  of  a  soap  fakir.  For  the 
moment  King  forgot  his  trick  of  looking  his 
auditors  in  the  face  and  looked  at  the  floor. 
His  hands  sank  deeper  and  deeper  into  his 
trousers  pockets.  He  turned  to  Myton  ; 
Haff  and  Morris  followed  with  their  eyes. 
They  saw  the  two  furrows  that  enclosed 
Myton's  smile  deepen,  and  a  maze  of  little 
lines  come  out  around  his  steety  eyes. 

"Now,  Mr.  Myton,"  said  King,   "I    want 
you  to  tell  these  men,  who  believe  in  you, 
113 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

and  who  know  you've  known  me  in  politics 
for  ten  years,  just  what  you  think  of  my 
candidacy.  I  want  an  honest  opinion,  and 
so  do  they." 

Julia  Fairbanks  was  Myton's  prompter. 
He  stood  erect  and  spoke  with  a  cigar  in  the 
corner  of  his  mouth.  But  before  he  spoke 
he  took  one  last  hungry  look,  in  fancy,  at  the 
lights  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  in  Washington. 

"  Boys,  I've  been  in  this  room  fifteen  min 
utes.  In  that  time  Sam  King  has  offered  to 
make  me  a  congressman  again,  if  I'll  make 
you  fellows  believe  that  he's  the  man  to  send 
to  the  Senate." 

King  was  slow  in  comprehending  the 
meaning  of  the  sentence,  and  before  he  could 
protest,  Myton  continued  : 

"I  haven't  a  thing  in  the  world  against 
Sam  King.  He's  a  good  fellow,  and  a  friend 
of  mine — but  he's  no  more  fitted  to  represent 
this  State  in  the  Senate  than  Captain  Kidd 
is  to  act  as  recording  angel." 

There  was  a  rapier-like  twinkle  in  Myton's 
eyes,  as  he  added : 

"Of  course,  this  is  in  confidence.  Sam, 
you  got  a  match  ?  " 

In  his  stupor  King  fumbled  for  a  match. 
114 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

Myton  picked  one  from  the  table,  and,  before 
Haff  and  Morris  knew  whether  he  was  joking 
or  in  earnest,  he  had  turned  the  lock  and 
was  in  the  hall  doorway.  There  he  heard 
King  sneer : 

"  You're  a  hell  of  a  feller,  now,  ain't  you  ? 
But  I'll  cure  you  of  suckin'  eggs,  all  right." 

Myton  walked  rapidly  down  the  corridor, 
distributing  an  absent-minded  smile  to 
friends  and  foes  and  strangers  alike.  In  an 
hour  the  story  of  what  Myton  had  said  of 
King  had  become  the  property  of  the  gossips 
in  the  hotel  lobby. 

Now,  no  one  is  so  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
motives  that  move  men  as  the  practical  poli 
tician — unless,  perhaps,  the  impractical  fellow 
in  politics  is  to  be  reckoned  with.  So  it 
happened  that  when  Myton's  throwing  over 
of  King  made  the  young  ex-congressman  a 
prominent  figure  in  the  political  situation,  no 
one  guessed  the  spring  that  had  controlled 
his  action.  It  was  agreed  that  he  was  a 
power ;  that  he  had  displayed  unlooked-for 
courage  and  uncommon  honesty.  And  there 
was  a  score  of  wild  surmises  about  the  selfish 
end  he  had  in  view  when  he  declined  to  com 


bine  with  King. 


115 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

The  effect  of  Myton's  rebuff  of  King  was 
not  perceptible  upon  the  surface.  Yet  King 
felt  that  Myton  had  hurt  him.  A  political 
boss  is  a  hypnotist.  He  holds  his  power  by 
a  constant  repetition,  in  a  thousand  ways,  of 
the  declaration  that  his  power  exists.  Every 
denial  of  this  direct  suggestion  weakens  his 
influence.  Sam  King  was  not  a  psychologist ; 
but  he  knew  human  nature — which  amounts 
to  the  same  thing  in  the  long  run.  He  felt  in 
his  bones  that  Myton's  action  would  cripple 
him.  He  knew  instinctively,  that  if  one  man 
could  rebuke  him  publicly,  others  might  cease 
to  fear  him.  That  night  a  rumor  gained  some 
corridor  credence,  that  King  had  lost  two 
votes — whose  they  were  the  rumor  did  not 
specify.  The  rumor  was  really  a  premonitory 
sign  of  the  decay  of  King's  prestige.  A  man 
had  insulted  the  basswood  joss.  The  man 
still  lived.  Was  the  joss  a  joss,  or  only  a 
basswood  image  ?  Thus  worked  the  logic  of 
the  crowd  in  the  hotel  lobby. 

While  Myton  was  off  skylarking  with  Julia 
Fairbanks,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon, 
the  managers  who  controlled  three  groups, 
aggregating  forty-four  votes  of  the  anti-King 
forces,  had  agreed  to  give  Myton  a  compli- 
116 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

mentary  vote  at  the  caucus  the  evening  of 
the  following  day.  At  supper-time  these 
managers  explained  to  Myton  that  he  could 
probably  get  Haff,  Norris,  and  Moulton,  and 
with  forty-seven  votes  for  United  States  sen 
ator  he  would  be  in  excellent  standing  in  his 
party  when  the  congressional  fight  occurred 
in  his  district.  But  at  the  after-supper  con 
ference  the  anti-King  managers  were  careful 
to  lay  polite  stress  on  the  fact  that  the  vote 
would  be  merely  complimentary. 

When  Julia  Fairbanks  came  down  the 
steps  of  the  car  at  four  o'clock  that  day  and 
gave  Myton  her  gloved  hand,  it  seemed  to 
him  that  everything  that  could  happen  for 
good  in  the  world  was  occurring.  The  ra 
diance  of  her  smile  entranced  him.  In  the 
street-car  they  chatted  in  a  strained  way,  as  if 
they  knew  it  was  the  preface  of  the  story. 
Myton  sat  close  to  Julia  Fairbanks,  and  he 
fancied  that  she  leaned  away  from  him. 
Their  talk  found  its  way  into  politics.  As 
the  car  passed  the  State  House,  the  young 
woman  was  saying : 

"  Well,  I  do  so  hope  that  King  won't  get 
it.     He  stands  for  everything  that  is  vile  and 
disreputable  in  politics  in  this  State." 
117 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

"Yes,"  replied  Myton,  "King  is  bad 
enough,  but  he  is  a  prattling  babe  in  infamy 
compared  to  old  Barton  who  owns  him.  I've 
something  to  tell  you  to-night  when  I  see 
you.  I've  been  on  the  Jericho  road  to-day — 
fell  among  thieves." 

The  girl  laughed,  "  "Well,  just  so  you  don't 
fall  in  with  that  King  creature." 

When  Myton  left  Julia  Fairbanks  at  the 
door  of  her  aunt's  house,  he  felt  that  her 
words  had  justified  his  course  with  King. 

The  afternoon  slipped  away  and  all  the 
scenes  of  intrigue,  rivalry,  and  strife  that 
passed  before  Myton's  eyes  passed  as  the 
scenes  upon  a  panorama.  He  was  not 
moved  from  the  mooring  of  his  passion.  He 
was  longing  for  the  night  as  the  hart  panteth 
for  the  water  of  the  brooks. 

In  the  corner  of  the  room  wherein  Myton 
waited  for  Julia  Fairbanks  stood  a  miniature 
figure  of  the  Winged  Victory.  The  mute 
figure,  poised  for  fight,  seemed  to  lift  Myton 
upon  its  pinions.  When  he  heard  a  rustle  of 
silks,  he  rose  to  a  subordinate  heaven.  She 
entered,  and  some  demi-god  in  the  particular 
heaven  wherein  Myton  sojourned  turned  on 
all  the  splendors  of  a  transcendent  electrical 
118 


"A  TEIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

display.  And  then  Myton  and  Julia  Fair 
banks  rose  to  another  heaven — the  heaven 
where  journeys  end  in  lovers  meeting. 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  Myton's  eyes  and 
those  of  Julia  Fairbanks  had  become  accus 
tomed  to  the  bright  light  of  their  new  para 
dise  of  betrothal,  they  were  sitting  in  front  of 
the  fire  in  the  grate  and  Myton  was  saying : 

"Julia,  do  you  know  you  have  been  with 
me  all  day — helping  me  to  be  a  better  man 
than  I  could  have  been  a  year  ago."  The 
girl's  hand  was  clasped  in  Myton's.  The 
sense  of  possession  was  so  strong  in  him  that 
when  Julia  Fairbanks  shook  her  head  in  pro 
test,  Myton  all  but  forgot  his  pride  in  his 
self-conquest. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  could  have  told  a 
lie  about  King  to-day  that  would  have  sent 
me  back  to  Congress  and  King  to  the  Senate. 
But  I  would  have  deceived  my  friends  and 
would  have  betrayed  the  faith  they  put  in 
me ;  probably  a  year  ago  I  would  have  done 
just  what  King  wanted  me  to  do,  but,  Julia, 
dear,  you  were  with  me.  Your  ideals  braced 
me." 

While  Myton  told  his  story,  Julia  Fair 
banks  listened  in  two  selves — in  a  normal 
119 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

conscious  self,  attentive  to  the  details  of  the 
incident ;  and  in  a  second  self,  a  woman 
learning  for  the  first  time  the  lesson  that  the 
serpent  taught  to  Eve,  the  lesson  of  a 
woman's  power.  While  Myton  was  telling 
his  sweetheart  about  his  grapple  with  King, 
the  serpent  was  leading  the  woman  toward 
the  forbidden  tree,  to  show  her  the  excellent 
glory  of  Washington. 

When  he  closed  his  story,  Myton  said  : 
"  Dearest,  I  don't  care  for  politics.  I  don't 
care  for  Washington,  I  mean  if  I  have  to  pay 
that  price  for  it.  We  can  go  back  to  Pleas 
ant  Ridge — you  and  I — and  live  happy  in  the 
knowledge  that  we  have  kept  clean  and  hon 
est.  I  can  make  more  money  practising  law 
than  we  can  lay  by  in  Washington.  We  can 
have  a  beautiful  home,  and  even  in  Pleasant 
Ridge  read  the  world's  best  books,  and  enjoy, 
in  their  times  and  seasons,  the  world's  best 
things.  Can't  we — darling  ?  " 

Myton  fondled  that  word  ;  the  permission 
to  use  it  meant  such  a  surrender  of  his  sweet 
heart's  body  and  soul  into  his  keeping. 
When  he  had  finished  Julia  Fairbanks  did 
not  seem  to  share  Myton's  exaltation.  In  a 
short  pause  that  followed  his  speech,  she 
120 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

shifted  restlessly  in  her  chair.  She  knitted 
her  brow  and  said,  reflectively  :  "  Can  he 
keep  you  out  of  that  nomination,  Henry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  he  can,"  Myton  answered. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  himself  harboring 
a  vague  feeling  that  he  had  fumbled  in  some 
way.  He  asked  :  "  You  think  I  did  right, 
don't  you,  Julia  ?  " 

Myton  saw  the  gray  wings  of  a  doubt  flit 
across  Julia  Fairbanks's  face.  She  leaned 
forward  with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  and  her 
finger  beating  her  lips  nervously.  Her  large 
brown  eyes  met  Myton's  caressingly  before 
she  answered :  "  You  are  a  good,  brave  man, 
Henry."  Her  voice  dropped  to  a  meditative 
monotone  as  she  went  on :  "  But  you  pay 
such  a  dear  price  for  your  courage." 

Myton  laughed  and  replied  :  "  Honesty  in 
politics  is  generally  considered  a  luxury  for  a 
poor  man." 

Julia  Fairbanks  laughed  with  her  lover. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  go  back,"  and 
then  she  added,  "I  suppose  King  is  very 
angry." 

"  Of  course  he's  angry  and  of  course  I'll  go 
back  some  time.  The  anti-King  fellows  are 
going  to  give  me  a  complimentary  vote  in  the 
121 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

caucus  to-morrow  night  as  a  starter;  but  I 
wanted  to  do  something  worth  bringing  here 
to-night,  something  worthy  your  lover.  Do 
you  understand,  Julia  ?  " 

Myton's  face  was  serious  as  he  spoke  and 
his  hand,  obeying  the  yearning  in  his  heart, 
reached  toward  her. 

She  almost  whispered  her  reply,  "  Yes, 
yes,  I  understand,  Henry,"  and  then,  in  a 
surer  voice,  added :  "  I'm  so  ambitious  for 
you.  I'm  so  proud  of  you." 

Her  partisanship  for  him  warmed  Myton 
through.  He  forgot  the  vague  hurt  in  his 
heart.  He  asked,  gently  :  "  Would  you  like 
to  go  to  Washington,  Julia  ?  " 

She  leaned  forward  and  touched  his  hand 
with  her  cheek  in  a  swift  caress  and  whis 
pered :  "With  you!" 

The  soft  stir  of  her  silks,  the  upward  flash 
from  her  brown  eyes  and  the  touch  of  her 
cheek  went  over  Henry  Myton  like  fire. 
When  the  fire  had  waned  he  found  himself 
kneeling  by  Julia  Fairbanks's  chair,  her 
hands  in  his,  drinking  her  smile  in  a  mad 
thirst  and  exclaiming :  "  You  shall  go  Julia, 
you  shall,  you  shall." 

And  thus  Julia  Fairbanks  discarded  the 
122 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

serpent's  primer.  She  opened  the  next  book, 
and  read. 

"  Henry,  wouldn't  it  be  well  for  you  to  go 
back  soon — I  mean  very  soon,  while  your 
prestige  still  holds  ?  " 

Myton  had  risen  and  was  walking  the  floor 
with  his  fingers  locked  behind  him  when  he 
answered,  "Perhaps."  He  found  a  footstool 
and  put  it  close  to  her,  where  he  could  sit 
with  his  head  against  her  chair-arm  and 
look  into  the  fire. 

Julia  Fairbanks  took  up  her  words  where 
Myton  had  cut  them.  "  It  would  be  so  good 
to  go  back  now,  while  we  are  both  young, 
before  we  are  jaded;  with  the  zest  of  life 
still  keen  in  us." 

Myton  touched  her  hand  reverently.  "  We 
shall  always  be  young,  Julia,  we  shall  never 
be  jaded  so  long  as  we  have  each  other." 

"  Henry,  dearest,  I  don't  want  you  to 
spend  the  best  of  your  life  in  the  Ridge.  I 
wish  there  was  some  way  you  could  fix  it  up 
honorably  with  King." 

Before  he  could  reply  she  bent  toward  him 

and  touched  his  cheek  shyly  with  her  fingers. 

Her  touch  struck  the  pendulum  of  his  heart 

and  set  it  jumping.     She  smiled  down  upon 

123 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

him.  "  How  handsome  you  are,  Henry,  and 
you  are  mine,  mine,  mine." 

Myton  turned  toward  her  upon  a  foot  and 
a  knee.  His  lips  trembled  as  he  whispered 
her  name  and  clasped  his  arms  about  her. 
The  trustfulness  that  Henry  Myton  saw  in 
her  face  stilled  the  tremble  on  his  lips  and 
deepened  the  light  in  his  eyes. 

The  wind  soughed  mournfully  in  the  elm- 
trees  on  the  lawn  outside.  Myton  heard  the 
sighing  wind,  and  said,  tenderly :  "  The 
wind  from  home  is  here — our  prairie  wind, 
with  all  our  familiar  spirits  that  ride  upon  it. 
The  good  people  have  breathed  your  name, 
little  girl,  a  thousand  times  to  me  while  we 
have  been  apart ;  how  they  must  envy  us  our 
flesh  and  the  ecstacy  of  dancing  blood." 

She  answered,  in  a  voice  as  tender  as  his 
own  : 

"  Maybe  they  do  know  our  ecstacy,  for  I 
have  stood  and  thrown  my  kisses  to  you 
upon  the  wind  a  thousand  times  these  last 
months;  did  the  ghosts  bring  them  safely, 
dearest  ?  " 

The  red  blood  from  her  heart  stained  the 
girl's  cheeks  and  the  man's  lips  were  dry. 
Their  eyes  burned  with  an  unsteady  glov,-, 
124 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

liers  through  half-shut  lids.  Words  were  in 
adequate  and  the  wind  spoke  for  them. 

She  let  her  hands  rest  upon  his  shoulders 
and  asked,  with  gentle  earnestness  :  "  Can't 
you  fix  it  up  with  King  ?  Some  way,  honor 
ably  ?  "  She  pitched  her  voice  with  the  wind 
and  crooned  with  it :  "  Think  of  Pleasant 
Ridge,  Henry,  dreary,  dead,  desolate  ;  and 
then  of  the  life  you  are  leaving,  with  all  its 
opportunities,  all  its  riches.  In  the  Ridge, 
you  are  buried ;  in  Washington,  you  are  a 
power  for  good.  Can't  you  do  more  good  in 
Congress,  Henry,  than  King  can  do  harm  ? 
I  want  you  to  be  my  great  man." 

Myton  saw  through  a  glass  darkly.  Yet 
he  saw  the  vivid  red  of  two  half-closed  lips, 
a  new  light  beam  alluringly  in  the  eyes  he 
loved  and  felt— and  that  was  the  last  of  him 
— the  frankincense  of  his  sweetheart's  breath 
upon  his  face.  His  lips  made  the  words : 
"  I'll  do  any  thing  in  the  world  for  you,  Julia." 

Her  hands  slipped  from  his  shoulders, 
her  fingers  met  and  her  arms  were  about 
his  neck,  and  she  answered :  "  Won't  you  fix 
it  up  with  King,  some  way — honorably  ?  to 
morrow  ?  " 

Myton's  arms  drew  her  closer.  The  world 
125 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

spun  under  him  a  thousand  ages  away.  The 
serpent  slipped  out  of  the  garden. 

Henry  Myton  went  out  into  the  glory  of 
the  night.  He  rejoiced  in  the  awful  miracle 
of  the  stars  and  he  "  wist  not  that  God  had 
departed  from  him."  For  he  was  planning, 
with  an  alert  mind  that  knew  no  moral  re 
straint,  to  gratify  Julia  Fairbanks's  ambition 
at  any  cost.  As  he  walked,  a  bold  scheme 
spread  its  meshes  before  his  fancy,  and  with 
a  flush  of  exultation,  Myton  took  it  up  and 
set  it  to  snare  his  game. 

Before  Myton  went  to  bed  that  night  he 
secured  the  promises  of  Haff,  Moulton,  and 
Norris  to  vote  for  him  in  the  party  caucus  the 
following  evening,  on  a  complimentary  ballot. 
He  was  gratified  to  see  his  name  in  the  head 
lines  of  four  morning  papers  on  the  breakfast- 
table,  as  a  senatorial  possibility. 

An  hour  later  Myton  met  King  in  an  upper 
corridor  of  the  hotel.  Myton  approached 
King  with  a  cheerful,  "  Good-morning,  Colo 
nel  ! "  King  stared  coolly  at  Myton  a  mo 
ment  before  replying  :  "  So  you  want  to  go 
to  the  Senate,  do  you  ?  You're  a  pretty 
damn  smooth  scoundrel,  you  are." 

The  two  men  were  alone.  Mytos.  returned, 
126 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

in  a  lowered  tone  :  "  Colonel,  will  you  meet 
rne  at  Barton's  office  in  half  an  hour?  I'm 
going  down  there,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

King  knew  that  Myton  was  in  earnest. 
There  was  a  grip  about  Myton's  cigar  that 
held  a  painful  reminder  for  King  of  his  recent 
meeting  with  Myton.  A  mutual  friend  join 
ing  them  chaffed  Myton  and  King  about 
their  candidacies,  and  King  found  no  oppor 
tunity  to  answer  Myton's  question.  But 
when  Myton  entered  Barton's  office  he  found 
King  there.  While  the  three  men  were  in 
the  threshold  of  their  conference,  the  spidery 
little  eyes  of  Barton  crawled  over  Myton  with 
revolting  familarity.  This  irritated  Myton. 
Perhaps  Barton  knew  that  he  could  force 
Myton  to  come  to  a  point  with  his  business 
before  Myton  was  ready,  for  Myton  plunged 
into  the  object  of  the  conference  after  wasting 
but  a  few  minutes. 

"I  am  in  this  senatorial  race  to  stay;  I 
can  get  forty-seven  votes  to-night  on  the  first 
ballot.  Colonel  King  is  at  the  end  of  his 
rope.  He  is  not  as  strong  as  he  was  two 
days  ago.  He  can't  be  nominated.  I  can 
be.  I  need  six  votes.  You  gentlemen  have 
got  them.  Can  I  have  them  ?  " 
127 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

My  ton  rose  as  he  spoke,  put  his  foot  in  his 
chair,  and  leaned  with  one  hand  on  the 
crooked  knee.  There  was  no  reply  to  his 
request.  He  continued :  "  I  will  let  Colonel 
King  name  a  United  States  Marshal,  a  col 
lector  of  the  port,  in  his  town,  and  a  United 
States  District  Attorney.  You  can  either 
take  that  offer,  or  I'll  go  to  Metcalf  and  make 
the  deal  with  him.  You  can't  make  a  deal 
with  him,  because  he  doesn't  trust  you. 
You've  tried.  He  has  refused  to  cast  his 
votes  for  me  with  the  rest  of  the  anti's, 
because  I  haven't  had  a  down  talk  with  him. 
I  prefer  to  do  business  with  you,  because  I 
know  you  can  deliver  the  goods.  Maybe  he 
can,  maybe  he  can't.  But  I  want  a  yes  or  no 
answer  from  you  before  I  leave." 

The  furrows  in  Myton's  face  bit  into  his 
cheek.  His  nerves  worked  like  steel  wires. 
His  voice  was  steady  and  hard.  King  caught 
Barton's  eyes  and  they  dropped.  He  found 
no  reassurance  in  them.  King  began  to 
drum  on  his  chair-arm.  An  instant  later  his 
fear  of  Barton  was  justified,  for  Barton's 
reply  was : 

"  Of  course  we  couldn't  afford  to  do  that." 
King  knew  that  Barton  was  dallying  with  the 
128 


"A   TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

proposition.  Myton  buttoned  up  his  top 
coat,  picked  up  his  hat,  and  said,  as  he 
reached  for  his  gloves  : 

"  All  right,  you  gentlemen  know  your  busi 
ness  ;  but  I've  given  you  a  chance." 

His  face  was  toward  the  door.  He  did  not 
see  Barton  pantomime  Kiug  to  call  Myton 
back. 

"  Hold  on,  Henry,  don't  be  so  fast.  We're 
your  friends  all  right.  Let's  talk  this  thing 
over." 

Barton's  eyes  and  Myton's  met ;  the  two 
men  gazed  at  each  other  for  a  moment,  and 
King  saw  them  reach  an  understanding. 

"  Your  offer  to  Sam  is  generous  enough,  I 
guess,"  said  Barton.  "  But  you  see,  Mr. 
Myton,  you  don't  know  the  situation ;  "  Bar 
ton  appeared  to  be  looking  over  his  desk  for 
something,  in  a  short  pause  that  followed. 
He  was  really  only  marshalling  his  diplo 
macy  to  say:  "  You  see  he's  spent  quite  a 
little  money — all  legitimately,  you  under 
stand,  but  he  isn't  a  rich  man  and  can't 
afford  to  lose  it." 

Myton  shuddered.  The  whimsical  super 
stition  that  someone  was  walking  over  his 
grave  caught  his  fancy.  But  his  sane  mind 
129 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

saw  that  the  question  was  one  of  dollars  and 
cents — a  clear  case  of  bargain.  But  Julia 
Fairbanks's  eyes  danced  before  him. 

My  ton  stilted  on  Barton's  pretence  and 
addressed  King. 

"  Colonel,  if  that's  the  way  the  laud  lays  I 
can't  help  you,  I  have  no  money." 

Barton  waited  for  King  to  speak.  King 
answered,  dryly : 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  note?" 

"  It  isn't  worth  a  damn,"  returned  Myton, 
relighting  his  cigar  the  second  time  in  five 
minutes. 

He  was  seated  at  a  table.  King  was  pac 
ing  the  floor.  Barton  sat  facing  Myton. 
King  asked  :  "Mr.  Barton,  will  you  discount 
Myton's  note  for  $20,000?  " 

Myton  caught  his  breath. 

"  Well,  you  better  find  out  if  he'll  sign  it 
first,"  replied  Barton. 

There  was  something  almost  humorous  in 
the  glitter  of  Barton's  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"What  do  you  say,  Henry?"  This  came 
from  King. 

Something  dying  in  Myton's  soul  tried  to 
rise,  but  it  passed,  and  Myton  answered : 

"Bring  on  your  note." 
130 


"A   TEIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

Myton  was  not  looking  at  King,  but  at 
Barton,  who  coughed  nervously,  and  said: 
"  You  understand  I  hold  the  note  ?  " 

Myton  lighted  his  cigar  again.  After  he 
had  signed  the  note  he  gave  it  to  Barton. 
He  did  not  fear  treachery.  He  had  debated 
that  point.  The  three  rose  and  King  spoke  : 

"  It  may  be  just  as  well  if  we  don't  hold 
any  further  conferences  till  after  this  nom 
ination  is  made.  It  might  arouse  the  sus 
picions  of  some  of  them  Band  of  Hope  fel 
lows.  The  good  St.  Moulton  of  Arapahoe 
County  might  find  some  irregularities  in  the 
minutes  of  this  meeting ;  eh,  Henry  ?  "  My 
ton  did  not  heed  the  thrust.  He  was  en 
thralled  by  the  vision  of  power.  Desire  to 
win  puts  a  callous  on  a  man  that  numbs  him 
like  the  chill  of  death. 

When  Henry  Myton  returned  to  his  hotel 
from  Barton's  office,  he  found  a  note  from 
Julia  Fairbanks  waiting  for  him.  It  was  a 
note  that  hailed  him  as  Thane  of  Cawdor, 
who  should  be  king  thereafter.  Julia  Fair 
banks  had  seen  My  ton's  name  in  the  head-lines 
in  the  morning  papers,  and  under  the  head 
lines  she  had  read  that  he  was  a  senatorial 
possibility.  Her  missive  contained  just  the 
131 


STEATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

number  of  endearing  words  to  recall  to  My- 
ton  for  a  vivid  moment  his  sweetheart's  per 
sonality.  He  put  the  note  in  his  pocket  and 
touched  it  fondly  during  the  day  as  he  went 
his  way.  All  his  energy  was  bent  to  his 
purpose.  He  simulated  indifference,  yet  he 
racked  his  ingenuity  to  make  excuses  for 
being  with  the  anti-King  leaders  during  the 
entire  afternoon.  His  anxiety  did  not  abate 
until  he  walked  with  them  into  the  Senate 
Chamber  where  the  caucus  was  about  to  be 
held.  But  when  the  meeting  had  been  called 
to  order,  Henry  Myton  sat  alone  in  the  back 
part  of  the  hall. 

The  madness  of  the  chase  was  gone.  The 
tense  cord  of  his  passion  for  victory  relaxed. 
His  energy  was  spent,  and  a  chill  of  horror 
began  to  creep  over  Myton  as  he  realized,  in 
a  sober  reaction  from  his  folly,  what  he  had 
done.  The  horror  bound  him  about  the  body 
like  cold  iron.  He  shuddered  as  he  saw  him 
self  more  clearly.  Self-loathing  rose  in  him 
and  filled  the  feverish  ducts  of  remorse. 
The  insanity  of  sheer  terror  make  Myton 
hope  that  Barton  would  fail  to  fulfil  their 
bargain. 

The  roll-call  started.  In  the  "A's"  and 
132 


"  B's  "  and  "  C's  "  the  King  men  voted  for  King, 
the  Metcalf  men  for  Metcalf.  The  anti-King 
men  voted  for  Myton.  Each  time  his  name 
was  called  down  through  the  "  E's "  and 
"Fs"and  "D's,"  Myton  felt  that  he  must 
stop  the  balloting.  When  Haff  voted  for  My- 
tou  there  was  a  clapping  of  hands  on  the  aiiti- 
Kiug  side  of  the  house.  Myton  was  writhing 
in  his  soul,  with  the  grip  of  remorse  that  is 
fresh.  He  clutched  Julia  Fairbanks's  letter. 
He  tried  to  find  sustaining  grace  in  it.  For 
a  minute  it  buoyed  him.  Then  Moulton  voted 
for  Myton.  A  faint  cheer  arose.  A  hundred 
faces  looked  toward  him.  Myton  sank  in  his 
chair.  The  crowd  thought  that  modesty  drew 
him  down ;  but  he  shrank  from  the  eyes  of 
his  friends.  In  the  "  S's  "  the  last  of  the  anti- 
King  votes  was  polled,  and  Myton  had  forty- 
seven  votes.  He  lacked  six.  Taylor,  a  King 
supporter,  voted  for  Myton.  A  cheer  of  sur 
prise  burst  forth.  Myton  started  to  rise  and 
stop  the  roll-call.  While  it  progressed  and 
until  that  moment  he  had  hoped  that  some 
thing  would  happen  to  prevent  the  consum 
mation  of  the  fraud  he  had  planned.  He  hoped 
as  a  doomed  man  hopes.  Turner  voted  for 
Myton.  He  was  dazed  with  the  inevitableness 
133 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

of  bis  fate.  He  tried  to  rise  ;  something  from 
his  sweetheart  fettered  him.  Perhaps  it  came 
from  her  note  in  his  clinched  hand.  So  he 
only  leaned  forward.  Thorn  voted  for  Myton. 
The  cheer  that  went  up  had  hats  in  it.  Ver- 
non's  vote  for  Myton  created  pandemonium. 
Yates  and  Weston  voted  by  mounting  chairs 
and  yelling  with  the  mob. 

When  it  was  all  over,  when  the  speeches 
were  said,  when  the  crowd  had  dispersed, 
Myton's  heart  was  numb.  He  felt  a  blind  de 
sire  to  be  with  Julia  Fairbanks.  It  was  not  to 
share  the  triumph  with  her  that  he  longed  for 
her,  not  to  be  revived  by  the  warmth  of  her 
smile,  not  even  to  reproach  her  ;  the  indefin 
able  yearning  for  something  strong  outside 
himself — the  yearning  that  older  men  and 
women  feel  when  they  call  on  God — brought 
Myton  to  Julia  Fairbanks,  weary,  sick,  and 
sore. 

The  telephone  had  told  her  of  his  nomina 
tion.  Myton,  haggard  and  wrorn,  entered  the 
room  where  the  figure  of  the  winged  Victory 
was.  He  stood  for  a  moment,  waiting,  and 
faced  the  white  figure,  leaning  his  head  upon 
its  pedestal.  His  breast  was  heavy  with  sobs 
that  would  not  rise.  He  was  heedless  of  the 
134 


"A   TKIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

premonitory  sounds  that  told  of  Julia  Fair- 
banks's  approach. 

She  came  to  Myton  with  her  head  poised 
for  the  crown  of  her  coming  glory.  Her  eyes 
beamed,  her  cheeks  glowed ;  her  lips  were 
parted  and  her  countenance  shone  with  the 
vanity  of  triumph  that  was  palpitating  her 
nerves.  Her  crinkly  black  hair  was  knotted 
high  upon  her  head.  A  little  pulse  throb 
bing  in  her  bare  white  throat  was  a  visible 
sign  of  her  spiritual  exultation.  The  white 
wool  house-dress  that  she  wore  was  girdled 
under  her  arms  with  white  ribbon ;  from  it  the 
lines  of  drapery  that  fell  to  the  hem  of  the  gar 
ment  suggested  rather  than  traced  her  figure. 
She  might  have  stepped  from  a  picture. 

On  the  threshold  she  greeted  him  with 
"  Senator,"  and  put  the  essence  of  her  pride 
in  a  smile. 

The  smile  and  her  greeting  stung  him. 
Another  instant  she  was  in  his  arms.  He  did 
not  speak ;  but  looked  deeply  into  his  sweet 
heart's  eyes,  and  for  all  his  remorse  Henry 
Myton  thrilled  with  the  kiss  she  gave  him ; 
but  a  minute  later  he  shuddered  away  from 
her  and  cried : 

"No,  no,  Julia,  go  away  from  me — I'm 

135 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

unclean  Julia,  don't  touch  me."  She  saw  the 
marks  of  sadness  upon  him  and  that  the 
spark  in  his  eyes  was  dead.  The  lines  in 
her  forehead  knit,  but  the  flame  in  her  cheeks 
did  not  quench. 

"Why,  Henry — dearest — "  she  exclaimed, 
"what  is  it?" 

He  took  a  chair  and  she  came  near  him. 
He  held  his  head  in  his  hands  and  fixed  his 
eyes  on  the  floor. 

"Julia,"  he  began,  "I  have  done  a  vile 
thing.  I  have  sold  my  honor  for  money 
and  have  bought  my  way  into  the  United 
States  Senate."  She  punctuated  his  words 
with  an  exclamation.  "  I  have  deceived  my 
best  friends.  I  have  traded  upon  their  faith 
in  me  and  have  made  mock  of  the  highest 
sentiments  a  man  may  hold.  Oh,  Julia,  Julia, 
I  am  in  a  hell,  I,  who  was  sanctified  by  your 
love,  I,  who  was  glorified  even  as  the  angels 
are.  I  am  black  and  damned  in  perfidy." 

The  girl  did  not  understand  his  mood. 
She  did  not  wish  to  realize  it.  She  felt  that 
it  placed  no  serious  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
her  happiness.  She  moved  toward  him  and 
replied : 

"  Oh,  no,  Henry,  you  are  tired  to-night. 
136 


"A  TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

to-morrow  you  will  see  things  differently. 
Tell  me  about  it,  dearest — I  am  not  ashamed 
of  anything  you  could  do.  How  have  you 
sold  yourself?  " 

When  he  finished  his  story,  omitting  none 
of  the  details,  she  replied  : 

"  Dearest,  that  isn't  so  bad.  You  needn't 
sell  yourself  to  Barton.  Don't  the  senators 
make  investments  and  make  money  honestly  ? 
I  know  you  can.  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  I  have 
faith  in  you,  I  know  you  can." 

Myton  leaned  back  in  the  chair  and  shook 
his  head. 

"  Julia,  there's  no  use."  The  emotion  had 
left  his  voice  and  he  spoke  in  a  hopeless 
tone.  "Once  in  a  while  there  is  a  senator 
who  goes  in  for  investments,  and  the  decent 
men  in  the  Senate  have  an  ugly  name  for 
him.  Such  a  man  is  soon  known.  He  is  as 
a  scarlet  woman.  Honest  men  shun  him  and 
soon  they  will  shun  me.  They  will  say : 
'  There's  Myton,  he's  gone  over  the  hill. 
There's  Henry  Myton  who  used  to  live  de 
cently — he's  on  the  make  now.  He  will  take 
money — or  investments.  He  will  be  num 
bered  with  the  doubtfuls.'  They  will  know 
me  for  what  I  am,  not  for  what  I  have  been. 
137 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SrOILS 

The  man  they  knew,  the  man  you  loved  yes 
terday,  is  dead." 

There  was  a  silence  between  the  two  lovers. 
The  girl  slipped  from  her  chair  and  knelt  be 
side  Myton's  chair  with  her  arms  about  his 
shoulders.  She  broke  the  silence  : 

"  Henry,  oh,  Henry,  maybe  I  can  help  you 
— you  called  me  your  guiding  star  last  night. 
Have  I  set  thus  soon  ?  Dearest,  let  us  be 
brave  and  forget  all  this — something  will 
come  to  make  it  all  right." 

She  crept  closer  to  his  side.  A  long  gust 
of  wind  sighed  mournfully  by.  The  girl 
looked  up  with  a  smile  and  said  : 

"  Why,  dearest — it's  all  the  same — there's 
our  wind,  our  very  same  wind  that  carries 
our  old  friends  the  ghosts  singing  their  love- 
songs  for  us." 

Mytoii  let  her  slip  from  his  arms  and  cried, 
in  despair  : 

"  Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  and  I  shall  ride 
with  them — the  fallen  ones,  the  restless  ones, 
who  spend  eternity  sobbing  for  their  yester 
days." 

The  wind  crooned  its  dreary  monody  again. 
A  sob  shook  Myton  and  he  cried  :  "  My 
dead  self  of  yesterday  is  out  there,  Julia, 
138 


"A  TRIUMPH'S  EVIDENCE" 

bunting  me,  haunting  me.     Hear  it?     Hear 
it?" 

About  the  time  of  the  election  of  Senator 
Myton,  there  was  a  bitter  discussion  in  the 
newspapers  and  magazines  over  an  article 
read  before  the  national  meeting  of  a  society 
for  sociological  research,  by  a  professor  in  a 
woman's  college.  In  the  course  of  the  article 
were  these  paragraphs — not  altogether  im 
pertinent  and  irrelevant  here : 

"The  new  woman,  that  is  to  say,  the  edu 
cated  woman,  is  just  coming  into  her  king 
dom.  Naturally  she  will  make  mistakes. 
Since  the  beginning  of  time,  woman  generi- 
cally  has  been  a  theorist  in  worldly  affairs. 
She  has  been  a  critic  rather  than  an  actor. 
She  has  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  ideals,  but  she 
has  had  little  experience  in  the  rough,  hard, 
disagreeable  work  of  building  these  ideals 
into  structures  of  actual  life.  In  this  carpen- 
tery  women  are  likely  to  mash  their  toes  and 
fingers,  and  those  of  their  friends  and  loved 
ones.  Speaking  generically  again,  women 
have  no  civic  moral  sense — they  have  moral 
ideals,  beautiful,  exquisitely  formed,  delicately 
balanced.  But  moral  sense  comes  only  after 
139 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

hard  practice ;  it  is  not  hereditary  ;  it  may  not 
he  learned  at  school ;  it  comes  only  after 
diligent  practical  work.  Women  and  preach 
ers  often  fail  in  temporal  affairs  for  the  same 
reason :  Their  morals  are  beautiful,  but 
anaemic.  They  are  athletes  who  have  ex 
hausted  the  literature  of  the  subject,  but  lack 
gymnastic  exercise. 

"  However,  there  should  be  no  cause  for 
discouragement.  Woman  was  emancipated 
only  yesterday.  She  must  not  be  expected 
to  live  a  miracle.  She  must  fail  and  fail. 
Her  very  shortcomings  are  signs  of  future 
success.  She  is  trying — that  is  a  great  thing. 
For  what  is  our  failure  here  but  a  triumph's 
evidence  for  the  fulness  of  the  days  ?  " 


140 


THE  MERCY  OF   DEATH 


THE   MERCY    OF    DEATH 

WITH  the  reporter  it  was  only  the  mat 
ter  of  a  Sunday  story.  If  Congressman 
Thomas  Wharton  had  not  been  elected  United 
States  Senator  the  day  before,  the  story  that 
Sunday  would  have  been  a  sanitary  article 
under  the  head  "  A  Little  Italy  is  a  Danger 
ous  Thing."  But  with  Senator-elect  Wharton 
it  was  a  matter  of  some  moment  to  have  a  city 
reporter  come  down  to  one's  home  on  the 
eight  o'clock  train  in  the  morning  and  stay 
until  the  six-thirty  train  in  the  evening,  tak 
ing  an  inventory  of  one's  goods  and  chattels, 
intellectual  equipment,  moral  endowment, 
and  previous  condition  of  servitude.  In  his  ca 
pacity  of  cataloguer  the  reporter  made  mental 
note  of  the  masterpieces  of  art  in  Wharton's 
library — the  campaign  picture  of  Blaine  and 
Logan,  a  dust-stained  steel  engraving  repre 
senting  the  Lincoln  family,  apparently  glued 
about  a  marble-topped  centre-table ;  also 
portraits  of  Hereford  royalty  by  Cecil  Pal- 

143 


mer,  and  of  Berkshire  royalty  of  unknown  ar- 
tisanship.  During  the  morning  Wharton 
took  the  reporter  over  the  wide,  tame  grass 
fields  and  showed  off  the  royal  originals. 

As  the  two  men  walked  in  the  fields  Whar- 
ton  explained  that  his  father  was  a  Pennsyl- 
vauian  and  his  mother  pure-bred  Donegal 
Irish.  While  he  was  relating  the  details  of 
his  early  life,  his  struggles  for  an  education 
with  the  appurtenances  of  the  log  school- 
house,  the  pine-knot  and  the  blue  Webster 
Speller,  the  reporter  was  condensing  the  nar 
rative  into  a  paragraph  in  which  the  phrase 
"  the  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor  " 
should  find  a  place. 

After  the  noonday  dinner,  and  when  the 
reporter  had  secured  photographs  of  Mrs. 
Wharton  and  of  the  children — the  two  mar 
ried  daughters  in  the  littlo  town  of  Baxter, 
the  daughter  in  the  high-school,  and  the  boy 
who  was  running  the  farm — also  five  like 
nesses  of  Wharton,  including  an  army  da 
guerreotype,  the  newly  made  senator  was  in 
a  talkative  mood.  He  was  sprawling,  rather 
than  sitting,  in  a  huge  leather  chair  in  front 
of  the  fire ;  his  feet  were  wide  apart.  One 
hand  kept  ruffing  his  iron-gray  hair,  the  other 
144 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

hand  held  a  cigar.  As  he  talked  the  reporter 
wondered  just  how  much  of  Wharton's  double 
chin  and  crescent-shaped  vest  the  managing 
editor  would  leave  in  the  copy  if  the  reporter 
told  the  truth  about  them.  Wharton  was 
saying : 

"The  trouble  with  the  East  is,  they're  get 
ting  flabby.  They  don't  get  enough  hard 
knocks.  Take  the  Eastern  fellows  in  Con 
gress.  Why,  not  one  in  ten  of  the  younger 
set  ever  went  barefooted.  They've  lived  in 
steam-heated  flats  and  ridden  around  in 
street-cars  all  their  lives.  They  can't  stick  to 
a  fight.  They're  what  you  fellows  call  effete. 
Look  at  the  pickle  that  Harvard  puts  on  a 
boy.  You  can  spot  a  boy  from  Harvard  as 
far  as  you  can  see  him.  He  has  a  kind  of 
highty-tighty  air,  sniffs  at  his  country,  and 
tolerates  his  universe.  If  I  ever  had  a  boy 
come  home  with  that  Harvard  pickle  on  him 
I'd  put  him  into  the  chamber-work  depart 
ment  of  a  livery  stable  till  he  got  so  he  could 
say  his  prayers  and  take  off  his  hat  to  the 
flag." 

Wharton  threw  a  leg  over  the  low  arm  of 
his  chair,  opened  his  half-shut  eyes,  grinned 
at  the  reporter,  and  added :  "  Don't  you  put 

145 


STEATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

that  in  the  paper.  There's  a  little  bunch  of 
Harvard  in  the  Senate,  and  I  may  need  it  in 
my  business."  The  reporter  assented  and 
Wbarton  cut  in  with  : 

"  Yep,  son,  sugar  catches  more  flies  than 
Tinegar." 

"  Do  you  want  to  talk  Civil  Service,  Sena 
tor  ?"  questioned  the  reporter,  as  he  mentally 
stored  away  Wharton's  epigram  to  use  in 
some  other  part  of  the  interview. 

Wharton  rose  and  paced  the  room  twice, 
with  his  cigar  in  his  teeth  and  his  hands  deep 
in  his  trousers  pockets. 

"  I  dunno — anything  wrong  with  this : 
say  that  the  thing  that  threatens  this  coun 
try  is  political  apathy.  Citizens  pay  too 
much  attention  to  business  and  not  enough 
to  politics — and  then  ask  how  you're  going 
to  get  more  interest  in  politics  by  taking  all 
the  offices  away  from  the  people  and  putting 
them  in  cold-storage.  Get  my  idea?" 

The  reporter  nodded. 

"  Well,  if  you  think  it's  any  good,  trim  it 
up.  Tell  'em  it's  all  right  to  holler  about  a 
public  office  being  a  private  snap,  but  ask  how 
the  registration  is  going  to  be  kept  up  in  the 
ward  if  mansions  in  the  skies  are  to  be  the 
HG 


only  reward  for  the  fellows  who  drive  the 
hacks.  Of  course,  don't  use  those  words,  but 
you  understand  my  point." 

When  the  interview  and  the  Sunday  story 
were  printed  they  appeared  under  the  head 
"  A  Tribune  of  the  People,"  and  the  story  told 
how  Thomas  Wharton  had  risen  from  an 
humble  farmer  boy,  step  by  step,  office  upon 
office,  from  school-teacher  to  county  superin 
tendent,  from  that  to  State  legislator,  up 
ward  into  the  National  Congress,  where  he 
served  six  terms ;  and  how,  by  trusting  in  the 
people,  he  had  weathered  every  political 
storm  and  had  finally  anchored  in  the  United 
States  Senate.  The  reporter  made  a  good 
story.  The  managing  editor  said  so,  and 
Wharton  bought  ten  copies  of  the  paper,  an 
unusually  large  number  of  copies  to  buy  for 
any  story,  if  the  papers  are  not  ordered  in 
advance.  But  the  story  had  its  limitations. 
There  was  much  that  it  did  not  tell,  and  in 
the  nature  of  things,  could  not  tell.  For  in 
stance,  to  lay  bare  Wharton's  ambition  would 
be  interesting,  of  course,  but  perhaps  libel 
lous;  for  it  was  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
made,  that  ambition — and  it  was  constantly 
changing.  Yet  Wharton  had  worshipped  it 
147 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

for  forty  years,  observing  no  variation  in  it. 
When  he  came  home  from  the  Civil  War  and 
taught  country  school,  his  ambition  beckoned 
him  to  be  a  statesman,  to  serve  his  country, 
to  thwart  corruption  in  high  places,  and  to 
stand  for  the  rights  of  the  poor  and  the  op 
pressed.  He  made  a  good  record  in  the  State 
legislature,  and  when  the  best  element  in  his 
party  sent  him  to  Congress,  in  his  speech  at 
the  ratification  meeting  he  shed  tears  of  joy 
ful  gratitude  that  his  opportunity  had  come 
to  him.  He  chose  to  forget  certain  irregulari 
ties  of  the  ballot  in  a  doubtful  county,  for  he 
had  an  earnest  faith  that  the  end  justified 
the  means.  The  insincerity,  the  corruption, 
the  pulling  and  hauling  for  place  and  power 
which  he  saw  during  his  first  term  in  Con 
gress,  shocked  him.  But  in  his  second  term 
he  began  to  count  that  sort  of  thing  as  a  part  of 
the  game.  During  his  third  term  he  accepted 
deals  and  jobs  and  sly,  legalized  official  steals 
as  matters  of  fact  and  of  course.  Later  ho 
took  Indian  supply  contracts  himself.  The 
women  lobbyists,  who  provoked  Wharton's 
disgust  as  a  young  Congressman,  ceased  to 
interest  him  at  all  in  his  fifth  term.  The  jus 
tification  of  his  means  by  faith,  being  needed 
148 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

less  and  less  frequently  to  salve  his  con 
science,  was  no  longer  an  act  of  volition  with 
Whartoii.  He  lived  in  hotels  at  Washington, 
while  his  family  lived  at  home  on  the  farm  in 
the  outskirts  of  Baxter.  Wharton  grew  mel 
low  and  cynical  in  his  cast  of  thought,  yet 
there  were  times  when  he  recalled  his  youth 
ful  visions  and  hoped  against  hope  that  the 
day  would  come  when  he  might  realize  them. 
In  the  meantime  he  controlled  his  district 
machine,  and  his  party's  national  organiza 
tion  oiled  the  machine  well  with  fat  fried  from 
concerns  east  of  the  Alleghanies  which  were 
affected  by  Wharton's  attitude  upon  impor 
tant  congressional  committees. 

For  Wharton  was  a  power  in  the  House. 
He  was  known  as  an  efficient  man,  which  be 
ing  translated  means  that  he  was  a  proficient 
log-roller,  and  that  he  had  reduced  mutual 
back-scratching  to  a  fine  art.  His  strong 
hold  as  a  congressman  was  in  pensions.  He 
framed  a  pension  law  which  made  his  name 
hated  in  the  East,  but  made  it  sacred  at  the 
camp-fires  and  bean- dinners  in  the  West, 
where  the  soldiers  took  their  free  homesteads 
after  Appomattox. 

In  his  last  congressional  fight  he  spent 
149 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

$2,300  to  buy  some  refractory  delegations  in 
the  nominating  convention,  and  the  end  was 
nebulous  and  hazy  while  the  means  were 
palpable  to  an  important  degree.  So  pal 
pable,  indeed,  that  when  Tom  Wharton  de 
feated  Senator  Gardner  and  the  Wharton  ma 
chine  won,  the  element  in  his  party  that  first 
sent  Wharton  to  Congress  opposed  him  most 
bitterly  in  the  senatorial  contest. 

When  Senator- elect  Wharton  went  back  to 
Washington,  it  was  not  into  a  strange  coun 
try.  He  had  measured  swords  with  many  of 
the  senators  when  he  and  they  had  been  mem 
bers  of  the  lower  house  of  Congress  together. 
He  had  been  on  conference  committees  at  the 
end  of  two  sessions  of  Congress,  and,  being  a 
member  of  the  steering  committee  of  his  par 
ty's  caucus,  knew  the  kind  of  timber  of  which 
every  senator  was  made.  On  the  other  hand, 
Wharton  knew  that  the  Senate  knew  Tom 
Wharton.  So,  when  he  was  cartooned  by 
Coffin,  in  the  Washington  Post,  as  an  Agra 
rian  Hercules,  in  a  breech-clout  and  a  straw 
hat,  cleaning  out  the  Augean  stables  of  sena 
torial  flub-dub,  Wharton's  cup  of  satisfaction 
brimmed. 

When  Wharton  took  the  oath  of  office  he 
150 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

walked  down  the  middle  aisle  of  the  Senate 
Chamber  in  a  gray  sack  coat  and  a  lay-down 
collar,  with  one  hand  in  his  trousers  pocket. 
His  only  sign  of  nervousness  was  manifested 
when  he  bit  at  his  bristly,  close-cropped  mus 
tache  as  the  informal  ceremony  proceeded. 
He  lounged  hulkily  back  to  his  seat  with  his 
thumbs  in  his  vest  holes,  sucking  his  teeth 
and  holding  his  head  at  an  angle  which  seemed 
to  him  to  proclaim  his  composure. 

A  year  later  Wharton  was  walking  alone 
up  and  down  the  red-carpeted  lobby  of  the 
Senate,  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him,  his  cigar  trailing  a  white  wraith 
over  his  shoulder.  Senator  Felt,  from  a  New 
England  State,  nudged  a  companion  and 
said : 

"  See  Tom  Wharton  over  there  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  he  thinks  he's  thinking." 

That  remark  came  to  Wharton's  ears  and 
opened  a  most  cordial  and  interesting  enmity, 
an  enmity  bred  of  physical,  mental,  moral, 
and  political  antipathies,  so  marked  that  de 
scriptive  writers  doing  the  Senate  always 
linked  the  two  men,  Wharton  and  Felt,  in 
beautifully  balanced  sentences,  which  made 
151 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

"Wharton  swear  in  English,  Spanish,  and  Mis 
souri  Valley. 

Wharton  still  foraged  in  pensions.  He 
kept  four  clerks,  besides  his  private  secretary, 
busy  answering  letters  from  pensioners,  or 
from  those  who  would,  could,  should,  or  might 
be  pensioners.  He  attended  camp-fires  and 
contributed  money  to  soldiers'  societies  with 
out  stint.  Before  he  had  been  in  the  Senate 
a  year  Wharton's  old  army  friends  began  to 
appear  as  messengers  and  guards  and  guides, 
until  the  Senate  pay-roll  became  almost  a 
copy  of  Tom  Wharton's  company  roster.  He 
would  help  other  senators  with  bills,  general 
bills,  or  local  bills,  and  in  return  for  his  ser 
vices  required  that  his  cohorts  be  cared  for. 

Early  in  his  first  senatorial  term  he  edged 
into  the  Committee  of  the  District  of  Colum 
bia  and  traded  everything  for  good  standing 
there.  He  retained  certain  ideals  of  honesty. 
He  was,  as  he  said,  as  honest  as  the  times 
would  permit ;  and  his  standard  of  political 
honor  in  others  only  drew  the  line  at  taking 
money  from  both  sides  of  an  issue.  Person 
ally  Wharton  made  it  a  point  never  to  take 
money  at  all,  but  he  made  propitious  invest 
ments  in  real  estate,  in  Massachusetts  Avenue 
153 


THE   MERCY   OP   DEATH 

Extended,  and  in  street  railway  stock.  He 
reasoned,  however,  that  his  constituents  were 
none  the  worse  off  for  his  foresight,  and  be 
cause  no  one  accused  him  of  taking  bribes  his 
conscience  did  not  prick.  During  his  first 
term  in  the  Senate,  Wharton  spoke  vehe 
mently  and  voted  for  all  laws  which  expand 
ed  the  currency  and  curtailed  what  he  called 
"  the  money  power."  The  day  after  one  of 
his  denunciations  of  the  railroads  he  returned 
all  his  passes,  and  a  friend  from  Baxter  who 
was  in  Whartou's  committee-room  when  the 
senator  was  dictating  letters  to  the  railroads, 
told  at  home  that  Tom  said  he  was  rich  enough 
to  afford  the  luxury  of  being  honest ;  and  the 
remark  passed  into  the  proverbial  literature 
of  the  State. 

Shortly  after  this  proverb  became  public 
property,  Senator  Wharton,  who,  in  his  con 
gressional  days,  had  been  tempted  by  the 
devil  in  various  disguises,  began  to  hunt  up 
the  devil  and  to  employ  a  broker.  Now  it  is 
a  long  jump  from  taking  a  little  $5,000  nibble 
at  an  Indian  supply  contract  or  munching  a 
$10,000  bit  of  public  land  grazing  lease,  when 
these  things  come  one's  way,  to  grabbing  for 
plums  right  and  left  and  standing  at  the 
153 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

pantry  door  demanding  that  nothing  shall  go 
to  the  table  until  it  is  divided.  The  devil 
helped  Wharton  to  make  the  jump.  After 
he  took  the  jump  Wharton  concerned  him 
self  with  the  interests  of  Wharton  first,  and 
considered  his  constituents  afterward.  The 
creeping  moral  paralysis,  which  had  been 
atrophying  his  nature  for  a  dozen  years,  be 
gan  to  manifest  itself  in  various  ways.  When 
a  circuit  judge  in  Wharton's  neighborhood, 
ambitious  for  promotion,  appointed  a  receiver 
for  a  railroad  in  Wharton's  State,  Wharton 
managed  to  own  profit-bearing  stock  in  the 
concerns  which  furnished  the  receiver  with 
supplies.  When  a  railroad  desired  an  exten 
sion  of  time  for  earning  its  land  grant,  Whar 
ton's  broker  and  the  law  department  of  the 
railroad  had  to  discuss  a  great  many  things 
which  came  under  the  head  of  "  that  matter." 
It  happened  sometimes  that  Wharton's  broker 
bought  sugar  felicitously,  and  sold  silver  with 
unusual  luck.  And  the  devil,  whom  Wharton 
had  found  in  a  mask,  used  to  pull  it  aside  fre 
quently  and  wink  gayly  at  the  Senator,  who 
would  pat  his  rotund  vest  and  smile,  seeming 
ly  to  himself  but  really  at  the  Old  Boy,  and 
say  to  his  private  secretary,  "  Well,  Bob,  we 

154 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

seem  to  be  able  to  keep  the  wolf  from  scratch 
ing  all  the  varnish  off  the  front  door!  Eh?  " 
For  Wharton  had  become  a  financier,  and 
was  known  in  New  York  banking  circles  as 
"  the  business  man  of  the  Senate."  His  in 
troduction  to  the  New  Yorkers  was  brilliant, 
and  admitted  him  to  the  inner  circle  of 
brigands  at  once.  Whartou  and  a  group  of 
New  York  bankers  got  hold  of  a  controlling 
interest  in  a  Western  railroad,  the  H.  &  2  O's, 
when  the  stock  was  selling  at  70.  The  H.  & 
2  O's  ran,  as  Wharton  succinctly  put  it,  "  from 
hell  to  breakfast,  over  two  streaks  of  rust, 
through  a  four- acre  mortgage."  Senator  Felt 
put  $50,000  of  his  wife's  money  into  the 
scheme  on  the  advice  of  his  bankers.  Whar 
ton  organized  a  $100,000  pool  among  the 
stockholders  to  keep  the  stock  of  the  road  at 
par,  the  pool  agreeing  to  buy  up  all  the  stock 
on  the  market  offered  below  par.  Felt  bor 
rowed  money  of  the  pool  to  buy  up  several 
little  blocks  of  stock  that  came  floating  his 
way,  slightly  below  par.  But  Wharton  sold 
to  the  pool  through  his  broker  at  nearly  par 
all  of  the  stock  which  he  had  bought  at  70. 
Then  he  faced  Felt  and  the  New  Yorkers 
down  with  uproarious  laughter,  and  asked 
155 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

them  if  they  saw  any  hayseed  in  his  hair. 
He  thought  the  joke  was  too  good  to  keep 
and  told  it  after  the  eighth  glass  of  raw 
whiskey  at  the  senatorial  poker  parties  which 
Senator  Felt  always  avoided.  Men  of  Whar- 
ton'  s  stripe  gazed  at  him  with  fond  admira 
tion,  and  he  was  revered  as  Captain  Kidd  was 
in  his  time  for  less  profitable  and  more  daring 
enterprises. 

Nature  began  to  brand  Tom  Wharton  in  the 
fifth  year  of  his  first  senatorial  term.  Little 
hair-like  wrinkles  spread  over  his  face,  radi 
ating  from  his  eyes  and  mouth.  His  brow 
cracked  in  a  hundred  places.  Under  his  eyes 
deep,  lateral,  fatty  wrinkles  gathered  and  in 
solence  leered  from  behind  the  bloated  lids. 
The  skin  of  his  neck  began  to  hang  loose. 
Nature  was  marking  her  danger-signals  on  his 
face  to  tell  the  world  that  Tom  "Wharton's 
soul  was  rotting  out.  He  took  heed  of  where 
withal  he  should  be  clothed,  and  his  raiment, 
which  once  had  been  of  coarse,  gray  Scotch 
cheviot,  became  broadcloth.  He  swathed 
himself  in  fancy  vests,  and  the  poker  set  said 
that  the  Thompson  woman  had  persuaded 
him  to  £jet  his  high  silk  hat.  For  the  Thomp 
son  woman  was  noted  for  her  clothes,  and 
156 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

when  she  walked  down  an  aisle  in  the  Pension 
Office,  treading  firmly  on  her  heels  and  hiking 
her  skirt  up  in  the  back,  one  could  hear  her 
silk  petticoats  rustle  all  over  the  room,  and 
the  girls  who  held  their  jobs  on  their  merits 
pretended  not  to  notice  her.  But  whether  or 
not  the  Thompson  woman  was  the  inspiration 
of  Wharton's  silk  hat,  he  wore  it  only  in  the 
East.  When  he  went  home  that  year  he 
donned  some  familiar  togs  and  went  under 
the  old  black  felt  that  was  well  known  to  the 
people  of  his  State. 

During  his  first  senatorial  term  Wharton 
mixed  in  a  score  of  local  fights  in  his  State 
and  built  a  State  machine  of  iron.  County 
officers  were  his  assistant  foremen  in  the 
political  organization  that  he  conducted  as 
one  would  conduct  a  great  factory,  wherein 
no  detail  was  too  trivial  for  the  owner's  per 
sonal  attention.  When  he  helped  his  friends 
with  money  in  a  political  transaction  Senator 
Wharton  took  their  notes,  thus  mixing  busi 
ness  with  politics  and  keeping  his  allies  true — 
Congressman  Wharton  had  never  done  this. 
When  the  machine  sent  him  back  to  Wash 
ington  without  opposition  to  serve  a  second 
senatorial  term,  Tom  Wharton  was  a  power  of 
157 


the  first  class.  Although  the  men  in  the 
Senate  whom  he  called  the  Good,  the  True, 
and  the  Beautiful  might  ignore  him  socially, 
when  these  men  needed  help  for  a  local  bill 
they  had  to  consult  Senator  "Wharton.  For 
his  political  savings  bank,  where  record  is 
kept  of  services  to  political  associates,  was 
full  to  overflowing.  He  was  wary  and  drew  on 
his  account  but  sparingly.  And  the  Thomp 
son  woman  kept  her  own  hours  in  the  Pension 
Oilice,  and  one  day,  in  a  sportive  moment,  she 
told  the  assistant  commissioner,  under  whom 
she  was  supposed  to  work,  that  if  she  could 
ever  remember  his  name  she  would  have  him 
dismissed.  Her  speech  was  unwise,  for  she 
forgot — if  she  ever  knew — that  when  a  man, 
even  so  gallant  a  man  as  Senator  Wharton, 
passes  his  fortieth  year  his  moral  lapses  are 
not  for  the  woman,  but  for  a  woman,  and  he 
is  easily  irritated. 

Tom  Wharton's  business  interests  grew. 
Whatever  he  touched  he  gilded.  He  worked 
far  into  the  night,  and  reached  the  point 
where  it  took  four  glasses  of  whiskey  to 
steam  up  his  boilers  for  work  in  the  morning. 
He  ate  breakfast  dictating  letters  across  his 
egg,  and  had  little  time  for  speech-making. 
158 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

But  his  secretary  sent  out  three  or  four  extracts 
from  the  Congressional  Record  every  year,  in 
which  were  Wharton's  speeches,  demanding 
a  tariff  on  hides  and  butter,  or  sounding  the 
alarm  against  the  trusts.  Occasionally  he 
fanned  one  of  these  out  of  the  thin  air  of  the 
lonesome  Senate  chamber,  but  usually  asked 
leave  to  print  and  went  about  his  business. 
His  fortune  crept  past  one  million,  jumped 
past  two,  and  a  chalky  pallor  stole  into  his 
face. 

Still,  for  all  his  success,  Tom  Wharton 
recognized  his  limitations.  He  cherished  a 
venomous  envy  for  Senator  Felt,  who,  Whar 
ton  fancied,  knew  the  difference  between 
brands  of  champagne  and  understood  what 
Wharton  called  the  "  time-table  of  a  wine- 
list  "  at  dinner.  So  Wharton  boasted  of  the 
superiority  of  whiskey  and  reviled  those  who 
did  not  appreciate  the  intricate  points  of  its 
quality. 

"  Bob,"  said  Wharton  to  his  private  secre 
tary  one  day,  when  the  Senate  galleries  were 
filled  to  hear  Felt  discourse  upon  a  minor 
clause  in  the  tariff  bill  then  under  considera 
tion,  "what  a  poser  that  fellow  is — always  be 
fore  the  public,  always  on  dress  parade.  I'd 
159 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

strangle  with  surprise  if  I'd  ever  see  that 
long-tailed  coat  of  his  unbuttoned.  Do  you 
suppose  he  sleeps  in  it  ?  Can  you  imagine 
him  in  his  night-shirt  ?  " 

The  secretary  laughed,  and  Wharton,  who 
was  looking  over  the  stenographer's  work  be 
fore  signing  his  letters,  went  on  : 

"  What  I  don't  see  is  how  he  holds  his  job. 
He  can't  do  anything.  I'll  bet  he  don't  know 
the  fourth  assistant  postmaster-general  from 
Adam's  off  ox.  He  hasn't  got  a  bill  through 
except  some  local  bills,  since  he  came.  That 
sophomore  twaddle  he's  reciting  this  after 
noon  will  have  about  as  much  to  do  with  the 
passage  of  the  tariff  bill  as  a  painted  toot 
from  one  of  the  painted  angels  over  there  in 
that  gingerbread  library  building  that  he 
struts  around  so  much  about.  And  yet  a  lot 
of  old  hens  cluck  and  scratch  worms  for  the 
Great  Senator  Felt  whenever  he  stretches  his 
neck  and  hollers." 

To  which  Senator  Felt  made  fair  return  in 
kind.  To  a  crony  in  a  Boston  club  Senator 
Felt  said :  "  He  is  a  thrifty  fellow,  that 
Wharton.  He  has  saved  from  his  salary  of 
$5,000  a  year  a  fortune  reaching  into  the 
millions."  The  two  men  laughed.  The  mask 
100 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

of  Felt's  face  did  not  wrinkle  or  quiver  as  he 
added :  "  He  is  a  subject  for  the  biologist, 
for  he  retains  the  strength  of  a  mastodon,  re 
vives  the  manners  of  a  cave  man,  and  pre 
serves  the  morals  of  a  hyena." 

Ostensibly  Felt  and  Wharton  were  friends. 
Yet  their  mutual  politeness  was  inspired  by  the 
jealousy  that  breeds  punctiliousness  in  men 
more  surely  than  it  is  bred  by  friendship  or 
esteem.  The  fires  of  jealousy  between  Whar 
ton  and  Felt  could  never  be  quenched,  for 
Felt  had  youth  and  culture,  and  Wharton  had 
power  and  courage. 

One  year  well  along  in  the  nineties  there 
arose  in  Wharton's  State  a  political  move 
ment  which  puzzled  him.  The  first  shock  of 
the  movement  made  the  little  bolts  and  screws 
and  cogs  of  the  Wharton  machine  quiver, 
and  the  second  shock,  coming  as  it  did  in  a 
presidential  year,  snapped  a  hundred  levers. 
The  defeated  candidates  filled  Wharton's 
mail  with  letters  asking  for  repairs  and  dam 
ages  and  for  expert  opinion.  The  constant 
habit  of  considering  the  affairs  of  the  wracked 
machine  gave  to  Wharton's  mind  after  six 
months  a  color  of  anxiety.  In  meditative 
moments  this  anxiety  sometimes  deepened 
161 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

into  terror.  For  because  Tom  Wharton's 
heart  had  no  solace  save  in  the  use  of  power, 
in  the  soul  of  him  Tom  Wharton  was  an  ab 
ject  coward.  He  had  hypnotized  himself 
into  the  belief  that  his  luck  was  infallible ; 
but  the  low  burring,  the  shrill  rasping,  and 
the  irregular  clicking  of  the  machine  got 
upon  his  nerves  and  filled  him  with  alarm. 
He  hammered  away  ineffectually  at  the  money 
power.  He  wrenched  and  jacked  unavail- 
ingly  at  the  trusts.  Then  Senator  Wharton 
got  his  trip-hammer  and  started  to  pound  the 
people  into  plumb  by  the  promise  of  a  ser 
vice  pension  law.  The  promise,  backed  by 
Wharton's  power  to  fulfil  it,  brought  conster 
nation  to  the  East,  where  most  of  the  nation's 
taxes  to  pay  the  pensions  would  be  gathered, 
and  where  but  a  small  portion  of  the  pen 
sions  would  be  distributed.  Wharton  saw  this 
Eastern  consternation  and  chuckled,  for  he 
believed  that  it  would  be  matched  by  rejoic 
ing  in  the  West.  In  congratulating  himself 
upon  the  probable  success  of  his  pension 
plans  Wharton  found  another  pleasure  and 
perhaps  a  keener  one.  All  New  England 
turned  toward  Senator  Felt  as  its  hope  in  the 
struggle  against  the  Whartou  bill.  If  Felt 
162 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

failed  to  thwart  Wharton,  the  East  and  his 
State  and  his  party  would  have  none  of  him. 
So  Tom  Wharton  changed  his  tobacco  quid 
from  one  jaw  to  the  other  and  from  the  worm- 
eaten  caverns  of  his  soul  exhaled  a  curse  upon 
Felt. 

The  god  of  business  is  an  exacting  god,  and 
he  puts  all  sorts  of  warning  signs  at  the  mile- 
posts  of  the  years  in  men's  lives.  At  the 
sixtieth  mile-post  there  is  a  danger  sign  which 
warns  men  against  new  enterprises.  The 
penalties  for  disregarding  this  sign  are  severe. 
But  sinful  pride  having  tilted  Wharton's  nose 
he  could  not  see  the  warning  on  his  third - 
score  mile-post.  So  he  began  to  dabble  in 
wheat.  Of  course  he  scalded  his  fingers.  A 
Chicago  packer  tempted  him,  and  the  two 
old  fellows  went  on  the  market  as  bears. 
Wharton's  name  was  not  known  in  the  deal ; 
but,  little  by  little,  while  wheat  kept  going 
up,  his  available  collateral  went  into  his 
broker's  hands  and  was  dumped  upon  the  New 
York  market.  The  Chicago  packer  could  have 
commanded  securities  representing  twenty 
million  dollars  in  a  few  hours.  But  Whar 
ton's  poor  little  two  millions  began  to  shrink 
when  he  turned  it  into  bankable  paper,  and 
163 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

evaporated  before  bis  eyes.  One  day  late  in 
May  a  small  financial  tornado  struck  Wall 
Street.  It  began  in  B.  R.  T.  and  spread  to 
every  industrial  stock  on  the  market.  Whar- 
ton's  collateral  at  that  time  had  been  reduced 
to  its  lowest  terms,  and  he  had  nothing  but 
the  industrial  stocks  to  offer.  When  the  day 
closed  wheat  had  gone  skyward,  and  not  a 
banking  concern  in  Wall  Street,  New  Street, 
Exchange  Place,  or  lower  Broadway  would  ac 
cept  as  collateral  a  single  stock  that  Wharton 
had  put  in  his  broker's  hands.  The  New 
York  broker  could  not  reach  Wharton  during 
the  mad  hour  when  industrial  stocks  were 
being  pounded  down.  The  broker  had  to  pro 
tect  himself.  Wharton's  stocks  were  thrown 
under  the  hammer.  They  did  not  realize 
enough  to  pay  the  margins  on  his  wheat  or 
ders.  His  note  went  to  protest,  and  when  the 
day  closed  Tom  Wharton's  fortune  was  gone. 
The  latter  years  of  Wharton's  life  had  been 
spent  out  of  partnerships  and  away  from  close 
companions.  His  very  greed  had  isolated 
him,  and  so  when  misfortune  befell  him  he 
could  turn  to  no  friendly  hand  for  help.  His 
family  had  departed  from  him  in  all  but  the 
outer  semblance,  and  he  was  absolutely  alone 
1G4 


THE    MERCY    OF   DEATH 

in  his  calamity.  When  he  had  learned  the 
worst  that  the  broker  had  to  tell,  Wharton 
locked  himself  in  his  private  room  with  a  flask 
of  whiskey,  and  when  he  came  out  his  pallid 
face  was  the  only  sign  of  his  perturbation. 
For  his  daring  was  not  lessened;  he  never 
played  "  old  maid  "  or  "  penny  ante,"  and  he 
loved  the  game  best  when  the  forfeit  was 
high.  He  believed  that  wheat  had  reached 
its  summit,  and  he  had  figured  it  out  that 
with  $75,000  to  operate  upon  he  could  regain 
everything.  But  he  decided  that  he  must 
have  that  amount.  He  rejected  a  dozen  plans 
to  get  it,  and  only  one  was  left.  It  was  a 
desperate  plan,  but  Wharton  did  not  hesitate 
to  follow  it.  He  left  that  night  on  the  mid 
night  train  for  the  West.  Ike  Russell,  the 
treasurer  of  Wharton's  State,  was  made  of 
clay  with  Wharton's  own  hand.  When  Whar 
ton  arrived  at  his  State  capital  there  was  an 
ugly  three  minutes  in  the  State  treasurer's 
office  and  then  it  was  over.  Russell  went  out 
of  the  room,  and  Wharton  went  into  the  vault 
and  filled  his  little  valise  with  school  bonds. 
Wharton  had  no  trouble  in  floating  them. 
He  deposited  them  with  a  Washington  bank 
where  he  had  done  all  his  business  for  twenty 
1G5 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

years.  The  money  he  realized  went  into  the 
wheat  pit  in  New  York,  and  he  glorified  Tom 
Wharton  and  prepared  to  enjoy  him  forever. 
For  it  is  the  chief  end  of  some  self-made  men 
to  confuse  their  deities. 

Ten  days  later  wheat  shot  into  the  nineties, 
turning  nimble  hand-springs  over  the  frac 
tional  points.  And  Senator  Thomas  Wharton 
went  to  the  safety-deposit  box  for  even  a  bone 
to  feed  the  dogs  of  the  pit  which  were  gnaw 
ing  his  margins.  When  he  got  there  the  cup 
board  was  bare,  and  so  the  poor  dogs  had  to 
lick  their  chops  over  the  memory  of  the  feasts 
Wharton  had  thrown  to  them.  Wharton  did 
not  expect  to  find  anything  in  his  box  when 
he  went,  and  yet,  until  he  had  looked  over  all 
his  plunder  there  and  found  not  one  scrap  of 
paper  negotiable  for  a  dollar,  he  did  not  real 
ize  that  the  end  had  come  absolutely. 

Wharton  fumbled  for  nearly  a  minute,  tak 
ing  the  key  from  the  box.  The  close  air  of 
the  room  seemed  to  stifle  him,  and  he  hurried 
— almost  staggered — into  the  fresh  air,  which 
he  breathed  deeply.  His  tremor  came  from 
mental  causes  partly — induced  by  the  mad 
dening  grip  of  the  taut  tether  of  his  fate,  but 
his  nerves  were  rioting  because  they  knew  no 
106 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

master  save  whiskey.  As  Wharton  walked 
back  to  the  Skoreham,  a  distance  of  ten  blocks, 
lie  lighted  and  threw  away  four  cigars.  And 
cigar-ashes  fell  on  the  immaculate  vest.  He 
raged  because  he  could  not  see  his  way,  but 
his  mind's  eyes  were  blinded  by  dust  from  the 
apples  of  Sodom.  His  isolation  among  his 
fellows  smote  him  when  he  saw  that  he  was 
afraid  to  advise  with  his  banker  and  ashamed 
to  talk  with  his  lawyer.  Way  back  deeply  in 
his  submerged  consciousness  was  the  concept 
of  the  penitentiary,  conceived  hardly  as  a  pos 
sibility — much  less  a  probability ;  yet  the  thing 
stuck  there  like  a  thorn  in  the  flesh.  After 
pacing  the  diagonal  lines  of  his  room  in  the 
hotel  for  half  an  hour,  Wharton  went  to  the 
telephone  and  asked  the  local  banker  who 
held  the  stolen  bonds  to  hold  them  off  the 
market  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  request 
was  granted,  for  Wharton  had  done  many  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  business  at 
the  bank.  With  a  twenty-four  hours'  reprieve 
Wharton  thought  he  could  find  some  ford  that 
would  lead  him  back  over  the  fatal  Rubicon 
he  had  crossed.  He  decided  to  direct  all  his 
legislative  force  for  a  few  hours  away  from  the 
Wharton  pension  bill  and  into  another  chan- 
167 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Bel.  The  dead  wall  of  a  prison  seemed  to  bar 
his  path  ;  but  the  jaws  that  hung  loose  while 
he  walked  from  the  safety  deposit  vault  to  his 
hotel  were  set  when  he  went  forth  to  burrow 
under  his  barrier. 

Now  there  were  in  Washington  two  electric 
light  and  power  companies  contesting  for 
business— one,  old  and  established,  with  wires 
strung  all  over  the  city ;  the  other  a  suburban 
concern,  with  a  city  franchise,  but  without 
wires  in  the  city.  For  several  months  an  in 
nocent-looking  bill,  which  provided  that  all 
electric-light  wires  be  buried  twenty  inches 
under  ground,  had  rested  in  a  pigeon-hole 
of  Wharton's  desk  in  the  committee-room 
of  the  District  of  Columbia.  To  make  this 
bill  a  law  would  be  in  effect  to  put  the  new 
electric  company  on  an  equal  footing  with  the 
old  company.  Wharton  himself  had  quietly 
urged  the  organization  of  the  new  company. 
He  had  pushed  the  bill  through  the  lower 
house  of  Congress,  and  shortly  thereafter  he 
found  $150,000  worth  of  the  new  company's 
stock  in  his  safety-deposit  box.  When  the 
Wharton  pension  bill  should  become  a  law  it 
had  been  Wharton's  purpose  to  push  the  un 
derground  electric-wire  bill  through  the  Sen- 
168 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

ate  and  unload  the  stock  lie  owned  for  a  fort 
une.  Two  hours  after  Wharton  left  his  hotel 
the  House  underground-wire  bill  had  been 
recommended  for  passage  by  the  Senate  com 
mittee  of  the  District  of  Columbia,  and  had 
been  advanced  on  the  calendar  for  considera 
tion  on  the  following  day.  For  the  old  com 
pany  was  rich,  and  Wharton  believed  that  it 
would  not  see  five  years'  dividends  eaten  up  by 
trench-diggers  without  a  struggle.  He  did  not 
go  to  his  hotel  that  night,  and  Mrs.  Wharton 
went  to  sleep  with  a  familiar  suspicion  by  her 
side  that  for  once  in  its  long,  hateful  life  was 
false.  For  Wharton,  greedy,  desperate,  bold, 
and  cunning,  was  prowling  about  the  town  in 
a  carriage,  routing  men  out  of  bed  at  unseemly 
hours,  seeking  whom  he  might  devour.  When 
he  lay  down  at  three  o'clock  on  his  office 
lounge  the  war  of  the  two  electric- lighting 
companies  was  waging  and  he  was  prepared 
to  loot.  With  his  booty  he  was  going  to  re 
deem  the  stolen  school  bonds.  He  was  so  sure 
of  winning  his  game  that  he  spent  the  closing 
minutes  of  consciousness  before  sleep  in  ma 
levolent  anticipation  of  the  hour  when  he 
would  annihilate  Senator  Felt  by  passing  the 
pension  bill  over  his  opposition. 
169 


STKATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

He  woke  from  the  horror  of  a  nightmare 
with  the  horror  of  reality  upon  him.  And 
the  thought  of  the  reality  made  his  hand 
tremble  as  he  put  the  first  four  glasses  of  his 
morning's  whiskey  to  his  lips.  Until  he  had 
consumed  nearly  a  pint  of  liquor  he  could 
not  muster  courage  to  review  the  details  of 
the  day's  campaign.  It  was  Wharton's  in 
tention  to  galvanize  his  shares  in  the  new 
company,  so  that  he  could  sell  his  stock  im 
mediately,  or — but  the  old  company  had 
stuck  at  $50,000  the  night  before  and  the 
stolen  school  bonds  were  in  pawn  for  $75,- 
000,  to  be  redeemed  that  day.  So  it  was  that 
or  nothing.  When  the  steam  of  the  morn 
ing's  whiskey  had  sent  his  drivers  to  pound 
ing,  Wharton  took  a  car  for  the  Capitol. 
"When  he  left  the  car  his  face  was  haggard 
and  he  walked  across  the  asphalt  with  a 
physical  curse  of  hatred  for  mankind  in  every 
rap  of  his  heavy  foot.  He  did  not  veer  a 
fraction  of  an  inch  from  a  straight  line  as  he 
walked,  and  he  snubbed  the  man  brutally  who 
ran  the  elevator.  In  an  upper  corridor  Whar 
ton  met  Curt,  the  agent  for  the  old  electric 
company  —  Curt,  whose  bedroom  Wharton 
had  left  at  three  that  morning.  Curt  had 
170 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

promised  to  confer  with  someone  whom  he 
called  "  his  people  "  to  see  if  they  would  meet 
Wharton's  $75,000  ultimatum. 

"Well,"  asked  Curt  festively  of  Wharton  as 
the  two  men  walked  down  the  corridor, "  have 
you  concluded  to  be  decent  ?  " 

Wharton  tried  to  see  into  the  recesses  of 
the  lobbyist's  mind  as  he  replied,  gruffly  : 
"I'm  right  where  I  was.  It's  that  or  noth 
ing.  I'm  going  to  make  a  speech  to-day  that 
will  fix  you  fellows  so  you'll  wish  I'd  sunk 
your  wires  six  miles  in  -  -  instead  of  twenty 
inches  under  the  street  level.  Come  up  and 
hear  it,"  he  snapped  over  his  shoulder. 

"  All  right,  Senator,"  laughed  Curt,  "  blaze 
away.  Tell  Bob  Dunning  to  come  up  to  the 
gallery  and  we'll  enjoy  it  together." 

Wharton  turned  into  his  committee-room. 
Dunning,  the  private  secretary, was  there.  He 
greeted  Whartou  with  a  look  that  matched  all 
of  the  senator's  anxiety.  Wharton  nodded 
and  said  :  "  You're  to  go  up  in  the  gallery 
with  Curt.  I  think  he's  going  to  come  to 
time.  But  I'm  going  on  with  my  speech  un 
less  he  does — I'll  show  'em,  G —  D —  'em. 
It's  the  first  thing  up  this  morning." 

Wharton  swung  into  the  Senate  chamber 
171 


like  a  bull  into  the  pit.  He  feared  treachery 
in  his  closest  allies.  He  scowled  at  his  fel 
lows  from  under  heavy  eyelids  and  peered 
furtively  around  for  some  knowledge  of  his 
financial  condition  to  show  upon  their  faces. 
Then  he  brushed  away  the  pages  that 
swarmed  around  him  with  other  people's  busi 
ness,  and  his  pen  scratched  incessantly  and 
angrily  until  he  rose  to  make  his  speech. 
Foreboding  and  a  sense  of  danger  mingled  in 
him  until  he  sickened,  as  the  look  down  the 
sheer  drop  of  the  ladder  makes  a  man's  knees 
tremble  before  he  starts  down.  Wharton 
mumbled  through  his  preliminary  speech. 
Then  he  saw  his  private  secretary  sitting  by 
Curt  shake  a  dubious  head,  and  with  a  rush 
of  courage  Wharton  fell  to  his  subject.  And 
soon  the  old  electric  company  was  withering 
in  the  hot  wind  of  his  oratory.  He  kept  his 
eyes  on  Curt  and  Dunning  in  the  gallery. 
Wharton  was  about  to  finish  his  climax  when 
he  saw,  as  a  drowning  man  sees  a  rope,  Curt 
lean  over  to  Dunning  and  Dunning  smile  and 
nod  an  affirmative  head  to  Wharton.  His 
hand  fell  to  his  side.  His  shoulders  col 
lapsed  and  he  said,  before  he  dropped  to 
his  seat : 

172 


"  Gentlemen,  I  see  I've  trespassed  too 
long  upon  your  time  already  to-day ;  but 
there  are  a  few  more  remarks  I  wish  to  sub 
mit  on  this  subject  at  another  time,  so  I  ask 
that  this  bill  take  its  former  place  on  the 
calendar." 

He  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  as  one  returning  to 
consciousness.  He  caught  Senator  Felt's 
eyes  retui'ning  from  the  pair  in  the  gallery, 
and  Wharton's  eyes  met  the  twinkle  in  Felt's 
with  a  glare  that  forced  the  twinkle  into  a 
laugh. 

When  Wharton  met  his  private  secretary 
in  the  committee-room,  to  Wharton's  implied 
question  the  secretary  nodded  and  said:  "I 
gave  him  the  key ;  he  hasn't  brought  it  back 

yet." 

The  senator's  safety-deposit  box  had  been 
the  trysting-place  for  many  of  his  affairs  be 
fore.  On  occasion  he  had  found  there  stocks 
and  bonds  and  all  sorts  of  booty.  Half  an 
hour  later  a  messenger  boy  brought  Dunning 
a  package.  It  contained  the  key  to  the  sen 
ator's  safety-deposit  box.  Wharton  took  the 
key  and  hurried  away.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
if  he  could  but  get  the  bonds  again  he  would 
never  put  them  down  until  he  replaced  them 
173 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

in  the  State  treasurer's  vault.  Sheer  fear 
came  upon  him  and  quickened  his  pace  al 
most  to  a  trot.  But  when  he  walked  out  of 
the  bank  with  the  valise  containing  the  stolen 
bonds  in  his  hands  he  was  bearing  down  upon 
his  heels  and  not  upon  his  toes,  and  planning 
to  take  the  midnight  train  for  the  West.  He 
was  a-tremble  and  felt  a  revulsion  for  the  rou 
tine  of  the  day.  His  lips  were  dry,  his  feet 
were  heavy,  and  he  loathed  the  sight  of  his 
associates.  It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  when 
he  hailed  a  green  car  and  rode  for  ten  minutes 
with  eyes  half  shut,  planning  a  score  of  things. 
He  viewed  the  wreck  of  his  fortune  with  some 
thing  like  composure.  He  believed  that  with 
four  years  more  in  the  Senate  he  could  find 
opportunities  to  rebuild  most  of  the  crumbled 
structure,  and  he  pinned  a  complacent  faith 
to  his  service  pension  bill  to  add  at  least  one 
more  term  to  his  service.  In  ten  years  — Torn 
AVharton  had  blind  faith  in  his  power  to  do 
anything  he  pleased  in  that  time.  Indeed,  he 
felt  himself  so  fully  restored  to  his  day-dreams 
that  he  took  from  his  pocket-book  a  well-worn 
clipping  from  the  Davenport,  Iowa,  Democrat 
and  Gazette,  and  read,  for  the  hundredth  time 
in  the  two  years  that  he  had  carried  it,  the 
174 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

editorial  which  announced  Senator  Wharton, 
the  Tribune  of  the  People,  as  a  presidential 
possibility  in  1900.  He  knew  the  piece  by 
heart  and  it  was  manna  to  his  ravening  soul 
in  times  of  trouble.  The  conductor  stopped 
the  car  with  a  "Here  you  are,  Senator." 
Wharton  walked  to  a  flat-house  near  by  and 
entered  with  a  latch-key.  No  one  greeted 
him,  and  he  lay  down  on  a  couch  in  the  par 
lor  with  his  hand-satchel  for  a  pillow.  Whar 
ton  slept  like  a  log.  At  six  o'clock  a  servant, 
bringing  in  the  last  edition  of  the  Star,  awak 
ened  him.  Glancing  over  the  heads  on  the 
news  page  this  item  attracted  him  : 

COMPANIES   COMBINE. 

Two  ELECTRIC  LIGHT  COMPANIES  CONSOLI 
DATED  THIS  MORNING. 

NEW  COMPANY  SWALLOWED   BY  OLD. 

Capitalization  over  $1,000,000  and  Politics 
Caused  the  Union. 

AN  INVESTIGATION  LIKELY. 

Wharton's  vision  skipped  nervousty  down 
the  column.     He  saw  that  the  consolidation 
had  been  accomplished  before  the  hour  of  his 
175 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

speech.     Then  his  eyes  stopped  roaming  as 
he  read  these  words  under  a  sub-head  : 

HINT  AT  A  HOLD-UP. 

"To  a  reporter  for  the  Star,  President 
Williams  gave  out  the  following  statement, 
which  he  had  dictated  to  his  stenographer 
and  revised  before  letting  it  pass  out  of  his 
hands :  '  There  is  room  for  but  one  electric 
company  here.  For  some  time  the  matter  of 
consolidation  has  been  talked  of.  During 
the  last  twenty-four  hours,  however,  it  has 
become  imperative.  The  situation  this  morn 
ing  is  this  :  either  to  unite  and  fight  the  ban 
dits  who  had  planned  to  rifle  our  treasury,  or 
being  separate  to  stand  and  deliver  to  every 
brigand  with  a  legislative  club  who  chooses 
to  come  out  on  a  dark  night.  The  books  of 
the  old  company  contain  some  interesting  en 
tries,  and  I  believe  that  no  confidence  is  vio 
lated  by  the  assertion  that  the  wires  will  not 
be  laid  underground.'  ' 

When  Wharton  finished  the  paragraph  his 
mouth  was  open  and  his  eyes  distended.  A 
pulse  in  his  head  was  beating  madly,  and  he 
breathed  like  a  stunned  ox.  He  saw  his  face 
in  the  mirror.  It  was  purple  and  it  seemed 
173 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

bloated.  A  terror  seized  him.  He  tried  to 
rise.  He  summoned  control  of  his  nerves, 
and,  holding  to  his  chair-arm,  rose  and  poured 
a  glass  of  water  from  a  sweating  silver  pitcher 
in  the  room.  When  the  Thompson  woman 
came  in  five  minutes  later  Wharton's  wrinkle- 
scratched  face  was  ashen  gray  and  his  voice 
shook.  His  hat  was  on  and  he  was  about  to 
go.  He  knew  that  Avhat  he  did  to  hush  the 
scandal  must  be  done  quickly,  and  that  with 
all  the  work  before  him  for  the  coming  five 
hours  he  could  not  be  handicapped  with  the 
bonds.  He  pointed  to  the  valise  and  said  to 
the  woman,  huskily :  "  I'll  leave  that  here. 
Take  it  to  your  room  and  keep  it  locked  up. 
It's  got  some  valuable  papers  in  it.  Don't  let 
anyone  touch  it." 

He  started  away  and  answered  her  protest 
ing  gesture  with:  "Yes,  I  got  to."  She  no 
ticed  that  he  tottered  a  little  at  first,  but 
seemed  to  walk  steadily  when  he  reached  the 
sidewalk,  and  boarded  the  car  before  it  had 
fully  stopped. 

By  half-past  eight  that  night  Senator  Whar- 
ton  had  done  several  important  things,  to 
wit :  He  had  made  an  engagement  by  tele 
phone  with  Williams,  the  president  of  the 
177 


STEATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

new  Consolidated  Electric  Company ;  sent  a 
messenger-boy  to  his  wife  telling  her  not  to 
expect  to  see  him  that  night ;  devoured  a  thick 
and  greasy  porterhouse  steak  garnished  with 
an  enormous  quantity  of  Saratoga  chips ;  and 
consumed  a  pint  of  whiskey.  As  the  clock 
was  marking  the  half-hour  the  bartender  at 
Chamberlain's  was  mixing  for  "Wharton  his 
second  absinthe  cocktail,  and  the  liquor  had 
put  the  senator  into  fine  form  and  high  spirits. 
It  was  a  beautiful  June  night  when  he  got 
into  a  landau  and  directed  the  driver  to  a 
house  in  Chevy  Chase.  Wharton  lolled  in 
the  seat  with  his  two  arms  sprawled  over  the 
cushion,  his  hat  tilted  back  and  the  cigar  in 
his  mouth  angling  upward  reflectively.  He 
intended  to  play  his  favorite  game,  and  by 
the  force  of  arrogant  insistence  and  domineer 
ing  threats  of  utter  destruction  he  expected  to 
bring  the  president  of  the  Consolidated  Com 
pany  to  terms.  "Wharton's  terms  were  these  : 
First,  the  interview  in  the  Star  must  be  de 
nied  ;  second,  the  Wharton  shares  in  the  Sub 
urban  Company  must  be  recognized  in  the 
consolidation ;  third,  as  a  reparation  for  dam 
ages  done  by  the  Star's  interview  Whartou 
must  be  given  at  least  a  temporary  place  in 
178 


the  Consolidated  Company's  directorate.  It 
was  an  old  game  with  Wharton,  and  he  had 
learned  long  since  that  the  higher  the  stakes 
the  more  likelihood  he  had  of  winning.  He 
jabbed  the  electric  button  in  the  door  of 
Williams's  house  with  a  stiff,  fat  forefinger, 
and  tried  to  put  some  of  his  boiling  rage 
into  this  greeting.  A  servant  explained  that 
Mr.  Williams  was  busy,  and  took  Wharton 
into  a  reception-parlor.  Wharton  fancied,  as 
he  sat  waiting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  that  he 
could  hear  men  laughing  in  some  distant 
room  of  the  house.  The  iron  rattle  of  a  voice 
that  sounded  like  Felt's  invaded  the  recesses 
of  Wharton's  consciousness  and  hurt  him  like 
a  sword  twisting  in  his  vitals.  Five  minutes, 
ten  minutes  passed  ;  twenty  minutes  dragged 
by,  and  he  began  pacing  the  floor  like  a  caged 
jackal.  The  room  was  close,  and  as  Whar 
ton's  rage  mounted  his  collar  wilted.  He 
turned  to  leave  the  house  in  a  fury.  He  saw 
the  servant  and  sent  up  a  second  card  to 
Williams.  The  servant  brought  back  word 
that  Mr.  Williams  would  be  at  leisure  in  fif 
teen  minutes. 

Wharton  entered  Williams's  smoking-room 
with  a  burst  of  profanity.     Williams,  who  was 
179 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

alone  in  the  room  writing  a  letter,  did  not 
look  up,  but  said : 

"  Be  careful,  sir,  there  are  women  in  the 
house." 

In  the  minute  that  followed  Wharton  exe 
cuted  a  sort  of  war-dance  before  his  host  and 
chanted  a  bill  of  wrongs  and  a  defy.  He 
ended  by  thumping  the  writing-table  and 
glaring  at  Williams. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  asked  Williams  as 
he  folded  his  letter  and  addressed  the  en 
velope.  Wharton  dropped  into  a  chair  and 
Williams  continued :  "  I  fancied  you'd  be  out 
to-night,  Senator,  even  before  you  telephoned. 
I  broke  a  social  engagement  this  afternoon 
that  I  might  be  with  you  to-night." 

"I'm  sorry  I  spoiled  any  of  your  infernal 
drop-the-handkerchief  orgies,"  retorted  Whar 
ton,  unbuttoning  his  vest  and  changing  his 
position  in  the  leather  chair.  Williams  was 
a  small,  gray-haired  man,  with  a  sallow  skin 
at  least  three  sizes  too  large  for  his  face.  His 
beady,  black  eyes  glittered  as  he  went  on, 
ignoring  Wharton's  demands  :  "  We  thought 
you  were  good  for  that  $75,000,  when  we  ar 
ranged  the  matter  this  morning.  You  proba 
bly  value  your  reputation  a  little  higher  than 
180 


THE   MEECY    OF   DEATH 

$75,000,  and  we  knew  it  would  be  safe  to  let 
you  have  the  money  temporarily  without  se 
curity.  We  also  desired  to  have  a  public 
record  of  your  perfidy,  and  in  your  speech 
to-day  you  furnished  it.  But  we  are  arrang 
ing  our  books  now,  and  we  need  that  money 
to  make  the  cash  balance." 

Wharton  started  to  speak,  but  Williams's 
soft  velvety  voice  went  on  :  "I  beg  pardon — 
but  as  I  was  about  to  say,  what  I  want  to 
night  is  to  know  whether  you  will  give  us  a 
check,  or" — he  smiled  pleasantly  and  added  : 
"  will  you  send  us  the  key  to  your  safety-de 
posit  box  ?" 

Wharton's  face  blanched  a  little.  His  voice 
did  not  rise  to  the  oratorical  pitch  of  his 
opening  challenge  as  he  replied : 

"  Mr.  Williams,  this  is  what  I  call  a  dishon 
orable  trick.  I  have  always  considered  you  a 
gentleman  before  now."  Williams  did  not 
reply.  "Yes,  sir,"  continued  Wharton;  "I 
always  thought  you  was  a  man  of  honor,  but 
I  find  you're  a  dirty,  contemptible  little  pup, 
and  I'll  see  you  in  hell  before  I'll  give  you 
any  $75,000." 

Williams  looked  up  quickly  and  caught 
Wharton's  eye,  which  dropped.  "Is  that 
181 


STEATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

final  ?"  snapped  Williams  like  the  click  of  a 
trigger.  Wharton  gazed  at  Williams  for  a  mo 
ment  before  replying.  Wharton  took  off  his 
coat  and  vest,  with  a  mumbled  apology  about 
the  heat.  He  paced  the  floor,  occasionally  run 
ning  his  fingers  through  his  hair.  A  slump  of 
all  his  powers  was  upon  him.  He  answered : 

"  I  just  don't  see  how  I  can.  I  invested 
every  dollar  I  had  to-day  in  a  little  scheme, 
and  I'm  in  the  red  at  the  bank  clear  up  to  the 
limit  now." 

"  Give  me  your  note  then,  sir,"  returned 
Williams.  Wharton  saw  that  he  must  gain 
time  and  said:  "Lookee  here,  let's  settle  this 
thing  up  in  the  morning.  We're  both  excited 
now,  and  we  better  cool  off."  Williams  shook 
his  head  and  Wharton  asked  :  "  Why  not  ?" 
Williams  spoke  : 

"  Senator  Wharton,  there  must  be  a  definite 
settlement  of  this  thing  right  now.  The  Post 
wants  an  interview  with  me  about  this  mat 
ter,  and  I  am  to  answer  them  to-night  at  elev 
en  o'clock.  If  the  books  don't  balance  then, 
I  shall  explain  why  they  don't  balance."  He 
tore  a  sheet  of  paper  from  a  pad  upon  which 
he  was  writing  and  said  to  Wharton : 

"There's  the  note." 

182 


Wharton  hesitated  and  still  playing  a  game 
for  time  replied,  sulkily  : 

"  Gimme  your  pen." 

When  Wharton  had  signed  the  note  Will 
iams  explained:  "You  need  not  send  your 
collateral  over  until  to-morrow,  but  we  shall 
insist  upon  it  then  as  a  matter  of  form." 
Wharton's  mind  reverted  to  the  school  bonds 
as  a  help  in  last  resort.  He  assented  tacitly 
and  rose  to  go.  As  he  put  on  his  vest  Will 
iams  exclaimed  :  "  Hold  on,  Senator,"  and  ad 
dressed  a  servant  who  entered,  "  Show  Sen 
ator  Felt  in  now,  John." 

Wharton's  anger  returned  with  a  rush.  He 
started  for  the  door,  crying,  "I'm  not  in 
on  any  of  your  damned  private  theatricals." 
But  Felt  in  the  doorway  blocked  the  passage. 
Felt  was  tall.  His  closely  cropped  beard  and 
glinting  nose-glasses  gave  him  a  hard,  metallic 
guise,  and  his  unyielding  monotonous  voice 
carried  on  the  similitude.  He  faced  Wharton, 
who  was  coatless,  flushed,  and  glistening  with 
perspiration,  and  the  two  men  surveyed  one 
another  as  pugilists  in  the  ring.  Wharton 
burst  out  first : 

"  Aw,  you  long-nosed,  canting  hypocrite ! 
So  you  ain't  above  a  little  blackmailing  trick 
183 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

yourself."  Felt  removed  his  glasses  and 
wiped  them,  looking  fairly  at  Wharton,  who 
bawled  on  :  "  This  is  your  size  !  Just  about 
your  size !  To  get  a  man  in  a  rat-trap  and  then 
bleed  him.  Oh,  you  damned,  cowardly,  psalm- 
singing  cur  !  You're  in  on  the  rake  off,  are 
you  ?  How  much  do  you  want  ?" 

Felt  put  on  his  glasses,  lighted  a  match  for 
his  cigar  on  his  shoe-sole,  and  smiled,  show 
ing  a  set  of  beautiful  white  teeth  of  unusual 
size.  When  Wharton  lost  breath  and  finished, 
Felt  spoke  to  Williams  gayly  : 

"  The  senator's  vocabulary  seems  to  be  well 
spiced  up  this  evening — at  any  rate."  Felt's 
rasping  little  laugh  cut  the  thread  of  the  sen 
tence.  "  Plenty  of  condiment,  as  my  grand 
mother  used  to  say  of  the  pudding." 

Wharton  had  regained  his  breath  and  said, 
as  he  grunted  into  his  coat :  "  Now  what  the 
devil  are  you  doing  here,  anyhow  !" 

Felt  seemed  to  pull  himself  together.  The 
smile  died  out  of  his  face  in  a  flash.  His  jaw 
began  to  chop  out  the  words — not  loudly,  but 
with  remarkable  precision,  as  his  eyes  through 
his  glasses  appeared  to  flick  the  blood  from 
the  purpling  face  of  Wharton : 

"I  came  here,"  said  Felt,  "to  give  you  full 
184 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

and  fair  notice  that  day  after  to-morrow  in 
the  Senate  I  shall  ask  for  an  investigation  of 
this  electric-wire  deal  of  yours,  and  offer  in 
evidence  the  affidavits  of  a  number  of  citizens, 
and  such  other  exhibits  and  documents  as 
may  be  needed  to  prove  the  justice  of  my  re 
quest." 

"You  think  I  won't  pay  the  note? "in 
quired  Wharton,  whose  hand  shook  and 
whose  facial  muscles  quivered  above  his 
mouth  and  about  his  nose.  "  Well,  sir,  I'm 
going  to  secure  it  with  collateral." 

"  That,"  returned  Felt,  contemptuously, 
"  is  immaterial  and  irrelevant.  I  know  noth 
ing  of  the  arrangement  you  may  have  made 
•with  Williams.  Neither  do  I  care.  But  I  do 
know  that  you're  a  bribe-taker  and  a  corrupt 
scoundrel,  and  I  am  going  to  do  my  duty  by 
the  American  people  and  prove  it  to  them." 
Felt  paused  an  instant  and  looked  at  Whar 
ton  absently,  then  finished, — "  Submitting 
some  outward  and  visible  signs  of  my  in 
ward  and  spiritual  faith." 

Wharton  stared  at  Williams  and  asked: 
"  My  collateral  is  good,  A  No.  1  school  bonds 
— why  do  you  hold  this  club  over  me  ?  Call 
off  your  dog  !  How  much  does  he  want  ?  " 

185 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

A  silence  fell.  Then  Wharton  turned  to  Felt 
and  spoke  in  a  calmer  voice,  but  with  his  face 
still  twitching:  "Lookee  here,  Felt,  let's 
you  and  me  fix  this  thing  up.  If  you  want 
anything,  ask  for  it  like  a  man."  Felt  did 
not  answer,  and  Wharton  walked  around  the 
room  with  his  hands  behind  him  for  nearly  a 
minute.  He  took  a  cigar  from  the  desk  in 
front  of  Williams  and  lighted  it  mechanically, 
striking  the  match  on  the  side  of  his  leg. 
Felt  and  Williams  watched  him  in  silence  as 
he  paced  the  longitude  of  the  room  three 
times.  He  stopped  and  cast  his  bloodshot; 
eyes  on  Felt  and  said  :  "  Of  course  I  hain't 
got  no  blue  stripe  down  my  belly,  and  a  lot  of 
you  fellows  back  here  who  have  think  I'm  a 
social  leper."  Wharton  shook  his  head  ma 
jestically  at  Felt  as  he  continued  :  "  But  out 
West,  sir — out  in  God's  country — there  are 
several  million  people  who  believe  in  Toin 
Wharton.  They  give  me  reason  to  hope  for 
something  bigger  than  the  United  States 
Senate.  The  time  may  come  before  long 
when  I  can  help  you  a  good  deal.  But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there  now.  Come  right 
down  to  first  principles — what  you  got  agin 
me  ?  Say  what  you  want  right  out  and  you 
186 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

can  have  it.  If  there's  anything  you  don't 
like  in  any  of  my  bills  on  the  calendar,  say 
so."  The  sound  of  his  voice  assured  him ; 
he  had  faith  in  his  persuasive  power. 

"  You  might  as  well  try  to  teach  a  rattle 
snake  the  Beatitudes  as  to  show  you  your 
shortcomings,  sir,"  answered  Felt.  "  Every 
thing  you've  got  on  the  calendar,  from  your 
demagogic  pension  bill  to  your  electric-wire 
steal  is  dead  wrong." 

"  All  right  then,  Senator ;  let's  agree  to  drop 
the  pension  bill — does  that  suit  you  ? " 
Wharton  knew  that  his  words  put  the  bars 
across  his  political  career,  but  he  was  fighting 
for  life  then  and  re-election  seemed  a  little 
matter,  comparatively. 

"  My  God !  what  a  treacherous  cur  you 
are,"  exclaimed  Felt.  "I had  hoped  you  be 
lieved  at  least  in  that !  " 

Wharton  sat  down  facing  Felt,  who  was 
leaning  against  the  door-jamb.  Wharton 
drew  in  deep  breaths  at  long  intervals  apart, 
and  because  the  alcohol  was  leaving  his  head 
he  was  having  trouble  to  keep  a  coherent 
train  of  thought.  After  he  had  gazed  at  Felt 
for  a  long  time  rather  stupidly  he  said : 

"  Damn  it,  Felt — what  you  want  to  go  and 
187 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

persecute  me  for  ?  You've  got  me,  rnayb 
but  if  I'd  got  you,  do  you  think  I'd  grind  you 
to  death  ?  Don't  be  a  Shylock — be  a  man. 
I'll  pay  this  outfit  their  notes  all  right,  and 
I'll  give  'em  good  collateral.  What's  more, 
I'll  let  you  in  with  me  in  a  little  Western 
Pacific  deal  I've  got,  that  there's  a  hundred 
thousand  in — if  you'll  let  up." 

There  was  a  whine  in  Wharton's  voice  that 
maddened  Felt.  He  walked  up  to  Wharton 
and  bent  over  him.  "  Tom  Wharton,  I  wasn't 
in  the  Civil  War  because  I  was  not  old 
enough,"  began  Felt  in  his  musketry  voice, 
which  filled  the  room,  but  was  so  well  con 
trolled  that  it  did  not  slip  through  the  door- 
cracks.  "  But  I  believe  I  have  a  duty  to  my 
country  now  as  sacred  as  that  which  called 
my  grandfather  to  Lexington,  and  my  father 
to  Bull's  Bun.  That  duty  is  to  crush  the 
political  life  out  of  one  of  the  most  powerful 
and  dangerous  influences  menacing  this  nation 
to-day — the  incarnation  of  political  coward 
ice,  corruption,  and  demagoguery.  My  fore 
bears  didn't  shrink,  and  I'll  not.  With  every 
talent  God  has  given  me  I  intend  to  fight 
you,  damn  you,  to  fight  you  until  I  shall 
strangle  the  last  vestige  of  vitality  from  your 
188 


THE   MERCY   OF   DEATH 

rotten  political  carcass.  Do  you  understand 
that,  sir  ?  I'll  show  you  whether  or  not 
you'll  shake  your  scarlet  rags  of  presidential 
ambition  before  me !  Why,  man,"  and  here 
Felt's  voice  grew  husky  with  repressed  wrath 
— "  why,  man,  I'm  going  to  drive  you  out  of 
the  United  States  Senate  into  oblivion,  with 
the  doors  of  the  penitentiary  banging  at  your 
heels." 

Felt's  voice  must  have  got  into  Wharton's 
soul,  for  he  grew  paler  and  paler  as  Felt  pro 
ceeded.  When  he  closed  there  was  a  deep 
silence.  In  it  Wharton  began  to  slough  off 
his  identity.  He  became  a  fear-stricken  ani 
mal.  His  wrinkles  made  his  face  look  like 
a  dirty,  cracked  china  plate.  The  trembling 
creature  that  had  been  Wharton  spoke  with 
Wharton's  mouth  and  said : 

"  My — good — God — Felt.  Do — you  realize 
what  this — m-m-means.  Think  of  my  family — 
my  wife.  You — are  not " 

The  Thing  put  its  hands  to  its  head  in  a 
tremor  of  pain,  and  something  akin  to  a  sob 
broke  from  its  wracking  frame.  It  was  a 
horrible  sight  for  men's  eyes  to  see.  Will 
iams  looked  away.  His  eyes  met  Felt's  and 
saw  no  mercy. 

189 


STEATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

When  Wharton  finally  got  hold  of  his  nerves 
he  said,  weakly: 

"  You're  young,  Senator  Felt.  You're  an 
educated  man.  You  have  the  advantage  of 
me — for  I  am  old.  I  am  an  ignorant  old  man, 
and  you  can  make  fine  speeches  against  me. 
All  right,  go  ahead  ;  ruin  me ;  but  is  it  such  a 
great  thing  to  whip  an  old  man  ?  "  Felt  did 
not  reply  and  dropped  into  a  chair  near  Will 
iams.  Wharton  rose  heavily.  "  Is  there  no 
way  I  can  make  you  see  this — like  I  do  ?  "  he 
asked.  Felt  shook  his  head.  Whartou  looked 
appealingly  at  Williams,  whose  eyes  were 
downcast.  The  silence  grew  painful.  Whar- 
ton's  hand  groped  for  the  door-knob.  He 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  said,  awkwardly  : 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  I  guess  I'll  have  to  bid 
you  good-night." 

Before  midnight  Wharton  stumbled  into  a 
Turkish  bath  with  the  daze  of  the  combat 
upon  him.  By  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning, 
after  he  had  deadened  an  agonizing  headache 
with  antipyrine,  a  maudlin  logic  had  con 
vinced  him  that  Senator  Felt  was  a  stock 
holder  in  the  Consolidated  Electric  Light 
Company,  and  that  his  greed  as  a  stockholder 
to  get  the  $75,000  back  was  stimulated  by  his 

190 


THE   MERCY    OF   DEATH 

ambition  as  a  senator  to  get  a  new  lease  of 
life  by  defeating  the  Wharton  service  pension 
bill.  Wharton  was  satisfied  with  his  own 
shrewdness,  but  the  stupid  smile  he  wore  at 
the  thought  of  his  penetration  of  Felt's  busi 
ness  acumen  faded  into  a  frightened  stare 
as  the  recollection  of  Felt's  voice  swept  over 
him.  In  the  hotel  corridors  and  in  the  street 
he  fancied  that  he  heard  his  name  spoken  in 
derision,  and  imagined  that  his  back  was  the 
target  at  which  every  eye  was  shooting  curious 
and  malicious  darts.  He  hurried  through  the 
Capitol  building  and  into  his  committee-room 
like  a  coward  under  fire. 

"Bob,"  mumbled  Wharton  to  his  private 
secretary,  "  did  you  see  that  piece  in  the  Star 
last  night?" 

Wharton's  heavy  fingers  were  cluttering 
the  mail  upon  his  desk  as  he  spoke.  When 
Dunning  replied  affirmatively,  Wharton  ques 
tioned  : 

"Anything  more  in  the  morning  papers 
about  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  very  much — about  the  same,"  an 
swered  Dunning. 

"Mention  any  names?"  asked  Wharton 
quickly. 

191 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

"  Not  exactly.  Want  to  see  the  Post  ?  It 
has  the  most  to  say." 

Wharton  answered  with  a  negative  grunt 
and  tried  in  vain  to  call  the  Thompson  woman 
at  three  different  telephone  numbers.  For 
the  inebriated  syllogisms  of  his  logic  had  per 
suaded  him  that  if  he  could  get  the  school 
bonds  to  Williams,  to  secure  the  note,  Felt 
would  be  placated  and  the  threatened  blow 
averted.  This  conviction  grew  upon  him  until 
it  became  a  mania,  and  at  noon  he  sent  Dun 
ning  out  to  the  house  on  the  green-car  line  for 
the  valise  containing  the  bonds.  When  he  re 
turned  empty-handed,  and  when  Wharton 
could  not  find  the  Thompson  woman  by  tele 
phone  again,  he  damned  her  and  her  kind 
almost  vigorously.  At  lunch  he  put  into  the 
coal-box  of  his  physical  machine  an  astonish 
ingly  large  quantity  of  soft-shell  crabs  and 
much  whiskey — even  much  for  Senator  Whar 
ton,  to  whom  half  a  pint  in  an  hour  was  an 
adult's  dose.  All  the  morning  he  had  dreaded 
to  enter  the  Senate  Chamber  as  a  condemned 
man  dreads  to  look  at  his  gallows.  But 
Wharton  was  shrewd  enough  to  know  that  he 
must  not  skulk.  The  liquor  made  him  reck 
less,  even  as  he  hoped  it  would.  He  stalked 
192 


THE    MERCY    OF   DEATH 

into  the  Senate  Chamber  with  his  mind  made 
up  that  it  would  take  a  bigger  man  than  Sen 
ator  Felt,  backed  by  cartloads  of  affidavits,  to 
make  Tom  Wharton  flinch.  His  large  frame 
suggested  the  unwieldy  bulk  and  power  of  a 
marine  creature  as  he  flung  himself  into  his 
seat. 

Ordinarily  pages  buzzed  around  Wharton 
like  flies,  during  the  first  few  minutes  of  his 
presence  at  his  desk.  But  that  day  none  came. 
No  brother  senator  leaned  over  Wharton  to 
confer  with  him,  as  was  the  custom.  Whar 
ton  rose  and  joined  a  group  of  his  associates 
in  the  back  part  of  the  room.  The  group 
melted  in  a  few  moments.  He  repeated  his 
experiment  twice  with  similar  results.  Scan 
dal  hissed  through  the  place,  and  everyone 
feared  to  help  Wharton  lest  he  should  spread 
his  infection.  At  four  o'clock  Wharton's 
head  was  a  pandemonium  of  furies,  and  his 
face  was  livid  with  rage.  The  swollen  arter 
ies  in  his  wrinkled  neck  pumped  the  fires  of 
the  seventh  pit  into  his  brain.  He  tried  to 
quench  them  with  more  whiskey.  The  only 
thought  that  helped  him  was  the  belief  that 
he  had  the  bonds  and  could  secure  the  notes, 
and  thereby  stop  Felt's  investigation.  He 
193 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

hugged  that  comfort  with  drunken  affection, 
and  reminded  his  more  bibulous  associates 
of  the  poker  party  that  had  been  arranged 
for  the  approaching  night  at  the  house  where 
he  had  left  the  valise  with  the  bonds.  Be 
cause  a  subconscious  fear  was  upon  Wharton 
he  telephoned  to  Williams  many  times  that 
afternoon  between  four  and  six  to  assure  him 
that  the  bonds  would  be  delivered  that  even 
ing.  But  the  house  on  the  green-car  line  did 
not  answer  the  telephone,  and  at  dusk  Whar 
ton  took  Dunning  to  get  the  valise  and  de 
liver  the  bonds  to  Williams. 

While  Dunning  waited  in  the  hall  of  the 
Thompson  woman's  house  he  heard  this  dia 
logue  upstairs ;  what  the  preliminaries  were 
he  did  not  know,  but  when  the  voice  of  the 
woman  rose  he  heard  her  say : 

"  Well,  if  I  needed  the  money  I  needed  it. 
The  bonds  were  here,  so  I  soaked  'em." 

Then  the  man's  voice — Wharton's  voice — 
spoke  unpleasant  things.  Dunning  could 
not  see  Wharton's  face,  nor  could  he  tell  what 
Wharton  did.  But  the  woman's  strident  voice 
broke  in  : 

"  You  drunken  old  coward !  Don't  you 
raise  your  hand  again.  It  will  be  better  for 
194 


you  to  lose  twice  the  $50,000  that  I  got  on 
'em  than  to  try  that  trick  on  me." 

Other  things  passed  which  need  not  be 
set  down  here,  and  when  Tom  Wharton  de 
scended  to  the  hall  he  was  dizzy  and  felt 
for  his  steps  cautiously.  But  he  looked  into 
hell  without  blinking  and  he  said  to  Dun 
ning: 

"  You  needn't  wait,  Bob,  I'll  fix  it  up  in  the 
morning." 

He  knew  that  with  the  bonds  he  had  stolen 
from  his  State  treasury,  pawned  by  a  woman 
like  the  Thompson  woman  and  unredeemed 
by  him,  whatever  Senator  Felt  might  say 
about  the  electric  company's  bribery  case 
could  not  matter  much.  So  Wharton  gripped 
his  consciousness  by  the  roots  of  it  and 
averted  a  panic.  But  over  and  over  rang 
Felt's  parting  words  :  "  with  the  doors  of  the 
penitentiary  banging  at  your  heels."  In 
Wharton's  ears  they  clanged  like  the  din  of 
some  monster  gong,  as  he  played  the  cards 
that  night.  Fear  twisted  his  nerves  tighter 
and  tighter.  When  a  telephone-bell  tinkled 
he  was  abject  with  terror  until  it  had  rung  off. 
When  he  caught  other  players  peering  into 
his  face,  as  is  the  habit  of  poker  players, 
195 


STEATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Wharton  winced   and  the  gong  in  his  head 
clamored  louder  than  ever. 

It  was  long  after  midnight,  and  the  cham 
pagne-bucket  had  come  and  gone  many  times. 
But  the  cut-glass  decanter  with  the  brown 
liquor  did  not  leave  Wharton's  elbow,  and  by 
three  o'clock  his  face  was  a  sickly  white,  and 
his  eyes  were  sparkling.  Wharton  was  deal 
ing  the  cards.  He  had  passed  around  once, 
when  suddenly  he  tossed  a  card  into  the  air, 
then  threw  his  face  upward,  with  an  indescrib 
able  look  of  resentful  anger  upon  his  feat 
ures.  But  his  eyes  were  wild  and  staring, 
and  his  head  dropped  to  the  table  with  a 
thump.  When  they  wiped  the  froth  from  his 
mouth  Tom  Wharton  was  dead. 


196 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

OLEASANT  EIDGE,  in  Hancock  County, 
1  at  the  close  of  the  eighties,  was  a  prairie 
village.  The  prairie  of  the  town  merged  into 
the  prairie  of  the  country,  and  only  a  wall  of 
sunflowers  upon  the  abandoned  "  additions  " 
marked  the  line  of  distinction  between  plain 
and  village.  And  because  there  was  no  other 
means  of  support  in  Hancock  County  than 
farming,  each  of  the  10,000  people  there 
was  a  sky-gazer.  The  community,  the  State, 
the  whole  Missouri  valley  west  of  Omaha,  was 
BO  closely  united  in  a  fraternity  of  weather- 
worship,  that  the  wind  blowing  over  the 
prairie  bore  either  a  dirge  or  a  hosanna  to  all 
who  heard  it.  The  great  valley  had  been 
settled  in  the  seventies,  the  settlers  had  bor 
rowed  money  in  the  eighties,  mortgages  fell 
due  in  the  early  nineties,  and  everyone  had 
more  land  than  he  could  farm  closely  and 
more  debt  than  he  could  handle  conveniently. 
In  '90,  when  spring  came,  a  crop  of  despair 
199 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

sprang  up  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  May 
be  the  seeds  of  the  popular  melancholy  fell  in 
the  fallow  ground  of  an  April  drought  which 
killed  the  wheat.  Perhaps  the  despair  grew 
from  the  approaching  pay-day  on  the  iiiim- 
merable  mortgages  that  held  the  land  in  their 
grip.  The  cause  is  immaterial ;  the  effect  is 
interesting.  It  was  surprising  then,  but  now 
it  seems  marvellous  almost  past  belief  that 
all  over  Hancock  County,  all  over  the  plains 
that  drain  into  the  Missouri  River,  men  and 
women  fell  in  the  throes  of  a  mental  epidemic. 
The  chief  hallucination  of  the  mania  was  that 
the  people  owed  more  than  they  could  pay ;  or 
in  justice  should  be  asked  to  pay.  The  mania 
manifested  itself  in  the  formation  of  a  secret 
order  called  the  Farmers'  Alliance.  The  germ 
of  revolution  was  in  the  air.  The  servant  with 
his  talent  buried  in  a  napkin  was  exalted,  while 
he  who  had  increased  his  ten  an  hundred-fold 
was  execrated  and  his  name  became  a  by- word 
and  a  hissing.  In  a  land  almost  of  milk  and 
honey,  where  not  only  bread  and  meat,  but 
pies  and  cakes  adorned  the  board  of  the  hum 
blest  farmer,  the  people  came  to  honor  the 
orator  who  said:  "Men  are  selling  their  bod 
ies  and  women  their  souls  to  get  the  neces- 
200 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

saries  of  life."  It  was  all  crazy  bigotry,  yet 
while  the  mental  disorder  raged,  it  held  the 
people  in  a  grip  as  vicious  as  a  bodily  dis 
temper. 

Now  when  the  world  turns  upside  down 
many  strange  things  come  to  the  top.  Like 
wise  in  a  season  when  men  and  women  glori 
fied  their  emotions,  persons  of  reason  were  in 
disfavor,  and  the  ne'er-do-weel  found  his 
council  in  demand.  In  politics,  the  well- 
known  leaders  were  retired  and  a  new  set 
appeared.  The  doctor,  lawyer,  merchant  and 
chief,  were  shoved  aside  for  the  horse-trader, 
the  sewing-machine  agent,  the  patent  right 
pedler,  the  itinerant  preacher,  the  tenant 
farmer,  the  lawyer  without  clients,  the  school 
teacher  without  pupils.  Pleasant  Ridge  con 
tributed  Dan  Gregg  to  the  collection. 

Dan  Gregg,  during  the  seventies,  lived  on 
an  upland  farm.  He  was  always  on  the 
books  of  the  Aid  Committee  when  the  drought 
came,  always  bringing  in  this  week's  butter 
for  last  week's  flour ;  always  experimenting 
with  patent  gates  on  broken  fences  and  always 
taking  the  unpopular  side  of  every  debate  at 
the  Johnson's  Ford  Literary.  During  the 
boom  of  the  eighties,  Gregg  sold  his  equity 
201 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

iii  his  farm  for  enough  cash  to  move  to  town, 
where  he  opened  a  real  estate  and  insurance 
office.  He  barely  made  a  living,  but  he  be 
came  known  as  the  town  infidel,  and  his  lank 
figure  was  familiar  on  the  streets,  where,  on 
Saturday  afternoons,  he  enjoyed  wrangling 
over  religion.  He  quoted  Voltaire  and  Tom 
Paine  and  Bob  Ingersoll  with  a  glibness  which 
too  often  put  to  rout  in  public  the  ministers 
whose  standard  histories  and  works  of  fiction 
Gregg  borrowed  in  private.  Whenever  there 
was  a  third  party  in  county  politics,  Gregg 
was  foremost  in  it.  Once  he  ran  for  the 
Legislature  on  the  Greenback  ticket,  and 
once  for  the  State  Senate  on  the  Prohibition 
ticket.  But  the  vote  he  polled  was  too  small 
to  report  in  the  returns  by  precincts. 

When  the  Farmers'  Alliance  formed,  Gregg 
took  to  it  as  a  duck  takes  to  water  ;  and  be 
cause  it  was  a  weakness  of  the  cause  to  give 
a  patient  ear  to  sound  and  fury,  the  Alliance 
in  Hancock  County  found  in  Gregg  its  natural 
leader.  Men  who  had  laughed  at  him  for 
nearly  a  generation,  saw  in  their  laughter 
only  evidence  that  they  had  been  blinded  by 
the  Money  Power.  And  women  who  had 
taught  their  children  to  hurry  by  Gregg  oil 
202 


A    MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

the  street  when  he  was  talking  religion,  sat 
rapt  under  the  drippings  of  his  altar  when 
he  addressed  the  Alliance  at  the  Fairview 
school  house. 

In  the  early  spring  of  '90,  Dan  Gregg  held 
forth  every  Saturday  in  Main  Street  of  Pleas 
ant  Ridge,  slouching  against  the  sunny  side 
of  a  building,  his  broad-brimmed  hat  on  the 
back  of  his  head.  He  was  full  of  quips  and 
jibes,  thus  :  "  You  fellers  have  heard  me  say 
it  before,  but  if  you  live  you'll  hear  me  say  it 
again.  I  never  swallered  no  'rithmetic  and 
I  ain't  et  a  dictionary.  I'm  just  an  ordinary 
man — common  or  cookin'  variety — as  you 
might  say.  And  what's  more,  I  ain't  no 
politician.  For  they're  smart  fellers,  these 
politicians,  these  here  brass-serpents  in  the 
wilderness!  And,  Good  Lord,  how  we  do 
worship  'em !  We  strut  around  and  slap  our 
suspenders  and  pretend  we're  free  born 
American  citizens,"  and  here  Gregg  would 
laugh  a  rasping  laugh  that  could  be  heard  the 
whole  length  of  the  little  street.  "  But  just 
let  J.  C.  Pike  come  out  of  his  old  bank  door 
and  snap  his  fingers  at  you,  and  the  whole 
blame  lot  of  you  gets  down  on  your  marrow 
bones  and  begins  knockin'  your  rattlin'  gourds 
203 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

on  the  earth  to  show  proper  respect  to  your 
brass  idol."  "Whereat  the  big  guns  of  the 
crowd  would  fire  volleys  of  approval — shout 
ing,  "  Hit  'ein  again,  Dan,"  "  That's  right," 
"Amen,  Brother,"  "Hurrah  for  Gregg." 

When  Gregg  had  his  crowd  in  humor  for 
it,  he  would  preach  doctrine  something  after 
this  fashion  :  "  Now  here's  the  way  this  mar 
vellous  fabric  of  our  national  finance  is  woven. 
We  common  onery  plugs  that  Abe  Lincoln 
used  to  call  the  great  plain  people — we  owe 
J.  C.  Pike  of  the  Pleasant  Ridge  First  Na 
tional  Bank  some  money.  That's  J.  C.'s 
assets.  But  t's  our  liability.  J.  C.  takes  the 
notes  up  to  Kansas  City  to  the  National  Bank 
of  Commerce  and  sells  'em  and  they  are  the 
K.  C.  man's  assets,  but  our  liability.  And 
the  Kansas  City  man  gets  on  the  train  and 
takes  'em  to  Chicago  and  sells  'em  to  the 
Chicago  National  and  they  become  the  Chi 
cago  man's  assets,  but  they're  our  liability." 
It  was  Gregg's  habit  to  bend  his  body  for 
ward  and  slap  his  leg  with  his  hat  every  time 
he  roared  out  the  words  "our  liability." 
"  Then  the  Chicago  man  takes  'em  down  to  the 
National  City  Bank  of  New  York  and  sells  'em 
to  old  Rockefeller,  and  they're  his  assets, 
204 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

but  they're  our  liability.  And  so  it  goes  'til 
Rothschilds  get  'em  in  London,  and  they're 
his  assets,  but  you  bet  your  bottom  dollar 
they're  still  our  liability." 

After  a  nervous  silence  Gregg  would  add 
passionately,  "  Every  man  gets  assets  out  of 
debts  but  the  man  that  owes  'em — the  man 
that  gets  up  at  four  o'clock  in  the  mornin'  to 
feed  the  calves  and  look  after  the  stock  and 
milk  the  cows  and  pay  them  debts — he  gets 
nothing  but  liabilities.  What  I  want  to  see 
is  a  law  passed  that  will  give  us  fellers  that 
dig  our  toes  in  the  ground  and  set  up  nights 
to  pay  them  debts  a  chance  to  make  'em  our 
assets." 

Then  his  voice  lifted  as  he  went  on  :  "I 
tell  you  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  seein'  a  lot  of 
bandy-legged  dudes  in  high  collars  standin' 
around  eatin'  up  our  substance  and  callin'  us 
the  ignorant  masses.  But  you  ain't,"  he 
jeered  good-naturedly.  If  the  crowd  pro 
tested  Gregg  would  wag  his  head  and  return : 
"  Oh  you  don't  fool  me  !  I've  heard  you  be 
fore.  What  you  fellers  want  is  to  work 
twenty-four  hours  a  day  and  twenty-six  on 
Sunday  for  a  slab  of  bacon  and  a  little  good 
eatin'  tobacco,  and  give  the  rest  of  your  earn- 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

ins'  to  the  outfit  that  comes  down  the  Wolf 
Creek  branch  in  a  special  car,  eatin'  terrapin 
and  drinkin'  high  wines  and  lyin'  awake 
nights  over  the  terrible  moral  state  of  the 
peasantry." 

Then  Gregg  would  break  forth  again  in  a 
laugh  that  sounded  like  a  rip-saw  in  a  knot, 
and  slap  his  hat  on  his  thigh  and  go  on  down 
the  street  looking  for  another  crowd,  hoping 
to  find  someone  who  would  open  an  argu 
ment.  He  was  loaded  for  argument.  He 
carried  with  him  the  kit  and  accoutrements 
of  the  Alliance  lecturer — a  small  legal  tender 
note  with  the  "  exception  clause  "  upon  it,  a 
copy  of  a  rare  old  bogie,  the  "  Hazzard  cir 
cular,"  that  told  how  the  crime  of  1873  was 
committed,  a  copy  of  the  Declaration  of  In 
dependence,  and  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States.  He  also  had  a  book  of  statis 
tics,  that  indicated  the  prices  of  silver,  of 
wheat  and  of  pig  iron  from  the  year  of  the 
flood  till  the  day  of  judgment,  or  thereabout. 

Therefore  when  the  Alliance  people  needed 
a  congressional  district  organizer,  they  chose 
Gregg  for  the  place,  and  even  as  Peter 
dropped  his  nets,  Gregg  left  home  and  busi 
ness  to  follow  the  call.  By  April  he  was 

206 


What  you  fellers  want  is  to  work  twenty-four  hours  a  day  and 
twenty-six  on  Sunday." 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

journeying  over  a  territory  larger  than  the 
State  of  Massachusetts,  organizing  the  people 
by  school  districts  into  phalanxes  to  fight  the 
oppressors. 

This  movement  was  not  Gregg's  nor  was 
it  within  human  control.  It  was  a  fanati 
cism  like  the  crusades.  Indeed  the  delusion 
that  was  working  on  the  people  took  the  form 
of  religious  frenzy.  Sacred  hymns  were 
torn  from  their  pious  tunes  to  give  place  to 
words  which  deified  the  cause  and  made  gold 
— and  all  its  symbols,  capital,  wealth,  plutoc 
racy — diabolical.  At  night,  from  10,000  little 
white  school-house  windows,  lights  twinkled 
back  vain  hope  to  the  stars.  For  the  thou 
sands  who  assembled  under  the  school-house 
lamps  believed  that  when  their  Legislature 
met  and  their  Governor  was  elected,  the 
millennium  would  come  by  proclamation. 
They  sang  their  barbaric  songs  inunrhythmic 
jargon,  with  something  of  the  same  mad  faith 
that  inspired  the  martyrs  going  to  the  stake. 
Far  into  the  night  the  voices  rose,  women's 
voices,  children's  voices,  the  voices  of  old 
men,  of  youths  and  of  maidens  rose  on  the 
ebbing  prairie  breezes  as  the  crusaders  of  the 
revolution  rode  home,  praising  the  people's 
207 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

will  as  though  it  were  God's  will  and  cursing 
wealth  for  its  iniquity.  It  was  a  season  of 
shibboleths  and  fetishes  and  slogans.  Rea 
son  slept  and  the  passions — jealousy,  covet- 
ousness,  hatred — ran  amuck,  and  who  ever 
would  check  them  was  crucified  in  public 
contumely. 

When  spring  closed  much  speaking  liad 
made  Dan  Gregg  proficient,  and  his  earnest 
ness  and  enthusiasm  gave  him  eloquence. 
The  fees  he  received  as  Alliance  district 
organizer  provided  him  with  the  best  income 
he  had  ever  enjoyed,  and  when  his  County 
Alliance  put  out  a  non-partisan  County  ticket, 
Gregg  strengthened  himself  by  refusing  every 
nomination  on  the  list.  His  faith  in  the 
movement  grew.  He  quit  jibing  at  the  peo 
ple  and  from  telling  them  that  they  would 
accomplish  nothing,  he  began  to  promise 
much.  For  the  germ  of  the  mental  madness 
was  working  on  him.  He  signed  the  call  for 
the  non-partisan  convention  in  his  congres 
sional  district  and  presided  at  the  convention 
which  put  up  a  horse-trader  to  run  against 
Henry  Myton  for  Congress.  Gregg's  ideas 
dominated  the  congressional  platform,  which 
had  some  of  Karl  Marx  in  it,  a  little  Louis 
208 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

Blanc  with  dashes  of  Parsons  and  the  Chicago 
brotherhood  of  anarchists  to  spice  it.  Gregg 
was  proud  of  his  platform,  and  the  night 
following  the  convention,  entertained  two 
Chicago  reporters  until  after  midnight  with 
his  theories  on  socialism. 

About  this  time  Dan  Gregg  began  to  be 
a  personage  in  the  State.  He  was  acquiring 
that  indefinable  something  called  prestige. 
Anecdotes  sprang  up  in  his  footsteps.  His 
epigrams  became  sayings  and  his  declarations 
became  final  in  matters  of  Alliance  policy. 
When  he  went  to  the  State  capital  to  sign  the 
call  for  the  non-partisan  convention  to  nomi 
nate  State  officers,  Gregg's  reportorial  friends 
had  told  the  other  reporters  about  him,  and 
his  picture  appeared  prominently  in  the  Sun 
day  papers.  The  most  accurate  description 
ever  written  of  Gregg,  as  he  looked  in  the 
famous  campaign  of  1890,  appeared  in  the 
Sunday  Tribune  a  few  days  before  the  Alli 
ance  convention.  The  description  occurred 
in  the  course  of  a  page-long  article  about  the 
new  movement.  Under  a  sub-head,  "  Pen- 
picture  of  First  Conspirator,"  came  these 
lines  : 

"  Imagine  a  loose-jointed  man  who  handles 
209 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

himself  like  a  lean,  hungry  cat — nervous  but 
not  fidgety — whose  eyes,  deep  and  coal  black, 
shift  as  a  humming-bird  flits ;  a  lantern-jawed 
man  who  has  invariably  shaved  day  before 
yesterday ;  a  man  whose  shock  of  coarse, 
black  hair  rises  over  his  high  bulging  brow 
as  if  to  defy  all  the  combs  in  the  world, 
when  he  takes  off  his  two-acre  black  hat. 
Imagine  a  sombre,  gloomy  face,  illumined  by 
a  lime-light  smile,  and  vocalized  by  a  voice 
that  has  the  range  and  power  of  a  slide 
trombone,  and  you  have  Dan  Gregg  of  Han 
cock  County,  who  might  be  called  '  First 
Conspirator '  in  this  movement.  He  is  the 
only  man  in  the  mob  who  is  impervious  to 
ridicule.  Someone  at  tho  capital  started  the 
story  that  Gregg  had  tried  to  go  to  bed  in  the 
National  Hotel  elevator,  mistaking  it  for  his 
room,  and  five  hours  after  he  heard  it  he  was 
telling  it  on  himself  for  the  sober  truth. 
When  they  introduced  Gregg  to  Harvey  K. 
Bolton,  attorney  for  the  Corn  Belt  railroad, 
Bolton  said :  '  "Well,  Mr.  Gregg,  I  rather 
expected  to  find  you  clanking  the  chains  of 
slavery.'  Gregg  retorted,  beaming  at  the 
railroad  attorney  :  '  Yes,  and  I  am  surprised 
to  find  you  ain't  wearing  }-our  iron  heels  of 
210 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

oppression  to-day.'  Those  who  have  heard 
him  speak  say  he  is  a  spell-binder.  They 
say  he  goes  stark  mad  and  takes  his  crowd 
to  bedlam  with  him.  But  for  all  that  he  is 
as  common  as  an  old  shoe,  there  is  a  queer 
streak  in  him  somewhere;  for  when  he  is 
alone  his  lips  move  incessantly.  But  the 
worst  thing  to  his  discredit  is  that  he  per 
mits  the  people  to  call  him  'honest  Dan 
Gregg.'  " 

The  Alliance  State  convention,  which  Gregg 
had  helped  to  call,  met  in  the  opera-house  at 
the  capital.  Gregg  did  not  sit  with  his 
County  delegation,  but  mingled  with  the  del 
egates  and  demonstrated  that  he  could  be 
what  the  reporters  called  a  good  handshaker. 

Among  others  Gregg  met  James  McCord, 
professor  of  sociology  at  the  State  University. 
With  McCord  was  a  wroman  handsomely 
gowned,  whom  McCord  introduced  to  Gregg 
as  Mrs.  Baring.  The  two  men  met  with  mu 
tual  curiosity,  tempered  on  Gregg's  part  with 
respectful  admiration.  For  McCord's  name 
was  on  the  backs  of  two  text-books  on  social 
ism  and  of  a  book  on  taxation.  When  the 
meeting  was  called  to  order,  Gregg  and 
McCord  and  Mrs.  Baring  went  to  sit  in  the 
211 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

wings  of  the  stage.  McCord  was  a  short, 
clean-shaven  man  with  a  heavy  body;  his 
large  head  was  covered  with  fiery  Scotch-red 
hair.  Mrs.  Baring  was  fair  and  blue-eyed, 
She  had  large  even  white  teeth,  with  light 
wavy  hair  that  would  not  show  the  gray  for 
a  score  of  years.  She  was  tall  with  the 
weight  that  comes  to  those  who  like  their 
beefsteaks  rare,  and  their  game  a  trifle  high, 
with  lines  of  character,  not  of  worry,  in  her 
face,  with  an  easily  balanced  laugh  that  often 
brought  out  a  double  chin — Mrs.  Baring  was 
a  widow  of  nearly  two  decades'  good  stand 
ing.  She  and  McCord  were  cronies.  For 
fifteen  years  Mrs.  Baring  had  been  able  to  do 
what  she  pleased,  to  go  where  she  pleased, 
to  entertain  whom  she  pleased,  and  no  one 
connected  her  actions  with  matrimonial  de 
signs.  So  when  the  people's  convention  met, 
before  which  her  brother  was  a  possible  can 
didate  for  secretary  of  state,  she  felt  perfectly 
free  to  ask  McCord  to  go  with  her  to  the 
convention.  She  laughed  at  the  movement 
which  called  the  convention,  yet  she  was 
curious  to  see  Dan  Gregg,  who  would  be  the 
personage  of  the  occasion.  She  knew  what 
sort  he  was,  for  Mrs.  Baring  knew  politicians. 
212 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

She  had  studied  the  tribe  at  dinners,  at  re 
ceptions,  and  frequently  at  her  own  home. 
After  the  formalities  of  the  introduction  were 
passed,  Mrs.  Baring,  Gregg,  and  McCord  sat 
for  some  time  watching  the  mob  in  shirt 
sleeves  take  form.  The  human  cauldron 
boiled  and  sputtered  for  half  an  hour  getting 
a  committee  on  Order  of  Business.  There 
were  no  recognized  leaders  and  everyone  was 
uncertain  whose  voice  to  trust.  In  the  con 
vention  were  scores  of  broken-down  politi 
cal  outcasts,  many  Greenback  orators  whose 
fame  had  expired  by  reason  of  the  statute  of 
twenty  years'  limitation ;  young  men  strug 
gling  for  prominence  and  women  jostling  for 
place.  But  the  great  majority  of  the  dele 
gates  were  earnest  people  sincerely  striving 
to  bring  about  a  great  reform. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  asked 
Gregg  of  McCord. 

"  Very  pitiful — infinitely  sad." 

Gregg's  black   eyes   snapped  a  question, 
but    before    it    could     be    voiced,    someone 
called    out :      "  Gregg,    Gregg  —  speech  — 
Dan  Gregg ! "  and  the   cry  swept  over  the 
house. 

While  the  chairman  pounded  the  delegates 
213 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

back  to  the  regular  order,  the  electricity  of 
the  occasion  played  across  Mrs.  Baring's 
face  in  a  little  excited  smile.  McCord  said  : 
"  You  should  be  proud  of  that,  sir."  McCord 
spoke  so  kindly  that  Gregg  could  not  mis 
trust  him  and  pushed  his  question : 

"  Why  do  you  think  this  is  so  pitiful — as 
you  said,  Professor  ?  " 

McCord  answered,  shaking  his  head :  "They 
expect  so  much."  Mrs.  Baring,  smiling  with 
good-humored  interest  at  the  spectacle  in  the 
pit,  cut  in  rather  idly :  "  They  propose  to  do 
in  a  few  months  what  God  has  failed  to  do  in 
a  good  many  thousand  years."  The  feminine 
of  it  would  have  been  "  Providence,"  but  Mrs. 
Baring  said  "  God." 

Gregg  stared  at  her  for  an  instant  before 
he  turned  to  McCord  and  asked  :  "  How  do 
they  expect  too  much  ?  "  Whereat  Mrs.  Bar 
ing  catalogued  Gregg  as  a  social  impossi 
bility. 

"  They  expect  to  reform  the  world  imme 
diately,"  returned  McCord.  "But  they  will 
find  that  the  human  nature  which  is  at  the 
bottom  of  our  ills  can't  be  changed  at  the 
next  meeting  of  the  legislature." 

Gregg  was  ruminating  on  McCord's  words 
214 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

while  the  committee  on  resolutions  was  form 
ing.  The  name  of  William  Thomas  was 
read.  McCord  broke  in  :  "  What  an  exca 
vation  this  movement  is."  And  Mrs.  Baring 
mused  aloud  :  "  Yes,  I  supposed  the  bones 
of  that  old  mastodon,  Bill  Thomas,  were  re 
posing  in  the  tombs  of  the  mound-builders." 

McCord  asked  Gregg:  "Do  the  people 
recognize  Thomas  ?  " 

"Yes,  they  do.  Why  shouldn't  they?" 
asked  Gregg  irritably.  "He  is  a  powerful 
man  on  the  stump."  McCord  whirled  in  his 
chair  and  caught  Gregg's  earnest  eyes. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  why.  Bill  Thomas 
hurt  this  State  worse  in  one  year  by  his 
fraudulent  sale  of  school  lands  than  Wall 
Street  can  hurt  it  in  a  century." 

While  the  resolution  committee  filed  out, 
the  convention  called  intermittently  for 
Gregg.  He  stretched  his  legs  in  his  chair 
and  suppressed  a  yawn.  But  his  nerves  were 
wrenched  as  a  thoroughbred's  are  at  the 
sound  of  a  gong.  He  retorted  ostentatiously  : 
"  I  don't  understand  that ;  he's  the  strongest 
man  in  the  First  District." 

The  desire  of  the  crowd  for  a  speech  was 
appeased  by  another  man  who  began  by 
215 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

rubbing  his  hands  unctuously  and  pleading 
for  someone  to  ask  him  a  question. 

"When  people  get  wrought  up  as  these 
people  are,"  McCord  replied  to  Gregg,  "  they 
believe  that  if  a  man  has  one  strong  virtue, 
he  has  all  the  virtues ;  if  he  has  one  vice,  he 
has  all  the  vices." 

The  oily  man  on  the  platform  ground  along. 
Gregg's  tightening  nerves  made  him  pat  a 
foot  on  the  floor  absently.  He  stared  at 
McCord  but  did  not  answer  him.  Gregg's 
soul  was  in  the  crowd  behind  him ;  he  felt 
the  convention  growing  restless.  He  half 
arose,  and  sat  back  in  his  chair  uneasily. 
The  orator  paused  to  plead  again  for  some 
one  to  ask  him  questions.  Gregg  itched  to 
get  on  the  platform  and  silence  the  multitude. 
McCord  tried  to  recall  Gregg  to  their  conver 
sation  by  saying : 

"  Don't  think  I'm  against  you,  Mr.  Gregg, 
nor  the  movement.  I'm  with  it  heart  and 
hand."  Gregg  blinked  at  McCord  rather 
stupidly  for  a  moment  and  put  his  hand  on 
McCord's  chair  and  responded  dully  as  a 
man  making  talk : 

"I'm  mighty  glad  of  that,  Professor.     We 
need  brains  in  this  thing  terrible  bad." 
216 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

The  man  on  the  platform  was  talking 
against  almost  open  rebellion  at  his  contin 
uance,  as  McCord  replied : 

"  I  don't  know ;  my  theory  is,  that  too 
much  brains  hurts  a  cause.  Would  Stephen 
have  been  stoned  to  death  if  he  had  known 
how  many  hundreds  and  thousands  of  years 
away  his  ideal  was  ?  " 

Mrs.  Baring  had  been  watching  Gregg's 
rising  passion.  It  stirred  her  against  her 
will.  Gregg  was  walking  up  and  down  by 
his  companions.  His  eyes  were  big  and 
glowing,  and  occasionally  he  ran  his  long 
fingers  through  his  coarse  black  hair.  The 
woman  took  McCord's  words  from  his 
mouth  and  said  to  him,  rather  than  to 
Gregg,  as  her  eyes  turned  from  McCord  to 
Gregg : 

"  It's  mad  enthusiasm  that  makes  things 
move  in  the  world,  I  think." 

Gregg  stopped  before  her  and  seemed  to 
be  muttering  the  words ;  the  spirit  of  the 
crowd  was  upon  him,  and  about  him — like  a 
wraith.  The  man  before  the  convention  was 
floundering;  someone  in  the  back  part  of 
the  opera-house  rose.  The  flurry  distracted 
Gregg  and  he  neglected  to  reply  to  Mrs.  Bar- 
217 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

ing,  but  kept  smiling  at  her.  The  interrupter 
was  saying: 

"Mistber  speaker,  I  have  wan  quistion." 
The  house  became  suddenly  quiet. 

The  orator  on  the  platform  was  beaming. 
It  was  his  trick  to  trip  up  questioners  with 
repartee.  He  replied  to  the  Irishman : 

"  Why,  certainly,  as  many  as  you  please." 

"  "Wull  thin,  Sor,  tell  me,"  retorted  the 
questioner,  "  tell  me  and  250  sweatin'  fellow- 
citizens  why  in  hell  you  don't  saw  off  and  give 
Dan  Gregg  a  chanst?  " 

For  five  minutes,  and  that  is  a  long  time 
for  any  public  gathering  to  continue  in  one 
mood,  the  convention  laughed  and  cheered 
and  laughed.  Gregg's  heart  was  pumping 
fire.  His  eyes  reflected  the  flames.  Then 
someone  began  stamping  his  feet  to  a  rhythm 
and  calling,  "  Gregg — Gregg — Honest — Dan 
— Gregg."  Two,  three,  a  dozen,  a  score, 
half  a  hundred  joined  the  chant  and  in  a 
minute  the  whole  convention  was  calling  in 
unison  for  Gregg,  who  was  stone  blind  drunk 
with  the  elixir  of  power.  As  Gregg  rose  he 
said  to  McCord,  but  he  looked  at  Mrs.  Baring  • 

t:Tm  kind  of  ashamed  to  make  this  speech 
before  you,  Professor.  I'd  rather  make  it 

218 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

before  almost  any  man   in "     But  the 

chairman,  who  had  just  finished  introducing 
Gregg  as  the  Abraham  Lincoln  of  the  Mis 
souri  Valley,  was  rushing  him  on  the  stage, 
and  he  appeared  amid  a  roar  of  cheers. 

The  crowd  caught  Gregg's  infectious  grin 
as  he  sauntered  down  the  stage,  with  one 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and  the  other  swinging 
his  big  black  hat.  He  nodded  carelessly  to 
the  chairman,  put  his  hat  beside  the  water 
pitcher  and  stepped  forward,  while  the  crowd 
yelled  its  approbation.  He  put  his  hand  to 
his  long,  clean-shaven  chin,  and  blinked  at 
the  audience  for  a  moment,  then  stretching 
out  his  arms  he  commanded  quiet.  Gregg 
began  in  a  deep,  repressed,  conversational 
voice : 

"  If  Wall  Street  has  got  any  friends  in  this 
meetin'  "  (the  elision  of  the  g  occurred  with 
deliberation),  "  I  judge  from  their  hallelujahs 
that  they  hain't  exactly  unregenerate  and  im 
penitent.  I  take  it  they  are  at  least  on  pray- 
in'  and  intercedin'  terms." 

Mrs.  Baring  caught  herself  leaning  forward 
on  the  edge  of  her  chair,  feeling  the  emotional 
curreiit  from  the  magnet  quiver  over  the 
crowd. 

219 


STEATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

When  the  applause  cleared,  Gregg  went  on  : 
"  As  I  understand  it,  this  convention  didn't 
come  to  town  in  private  cars  and  special 
trains;  consequently  I  am  told  that  we  are 
socialists,  bomb-throwing  anarchists  and  ene 
mies  of  society."  He  paused  a  moment, 
locked  his  hands  behind  him,  paced  half  way 
across  the  stage,  then  said  in  low,  solemn,  de 
liberate  tones,  as  he  unclasped  his  hands, 
leaned  forward  with  his  finger  cocked  and 
pointed  at  the  crowd  : 

"My  friends,  eighteen  centuries  ago  they 
would  have  crucified  us  for  the  Ocala  plat 
form.  To-day  they  are  only  trying  to  keep 
us  out  of  the  State-house.  The  world  is 
really  growing  better."  Then  his  voice  rose 
and  he  cried:  "Think  what  would  happen  if 
Christ  came  to  this  town  to-day.  Why,  John 
Gardiner  and  Harvey  K.  Bolton,  the  two  im 
penitent  thieves,  would  go  before  that  dough- 
faced  Pontius  Pilate  up  there  in  the  Supreme 
Court  and  get  an  injunction  against  the  Naz- 
arene  for  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  Sunset 
Route  and  the  Com  Belt,  and  some  Irish 
centurion  would  have  him  in  the  Sixth  Street 
jail  before  sundown."  After  the  laughter  had 
ebbed,  he  proceeded : 

220 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

"I'll  tell  you,  it's  no  laughing  matter.  If 
the  Ocala  platform  incites  these  blood-suck 
ing  Wall  Street  vampires  to  anger,  what 
in  God's  name  would  they  do  if  someone 
should  rise  up  to  preach  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount  ?  " 

That  was  the  last  sentence  that  any  re 
porter  got.  The  speech  could  not  be  reported 
any  more  than  the  gyrations  of  a  serpent 
charming  a  bird  may  be  put  in  words  ;  any 
more  than  the  reflections  of  a  revolving  mir 
ror  may  be  made  a  matter  of  record.  The  man 
who  waved  his  arms  and  played  on  the  mar 
vellous  instrument  of  his  voice,  became  trans 
formed.  His  loose  muscles  assumed  the 
rigidity  of  catalepsy.  He  fell  into  a  slow, 
mechanical,  cat-like  walk,  following  the  lines 
of  a  double  ellipse  up  and  down  the  stage. 
At  his  climax  he  stood  stock-still  and  talked. 
It  was  stifling  hot.  As  the  wind  makes  bil 
lows  in  the  prairie  grass,  Dan  Gregg,  who 
was  not  Dan  Gregg,  but  a  magician,  swayed 
the  great  crowd  at  his  whiin.  The  delegates 
laughed,  they  cried,  they  shuddered;  they 
clinched  their  fists ;  they  cheered  and  knew 
it  not,  and  orators  and  auditors,  chained  to 
gether  by  a  common  frenzy  that  each  pro- 
221 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

duced  upon  the  other,  went  out  of  reason  to 
gether. 

When  he  had  finished  speaking,  Gregg 
hastened  back  of  the  scenes.  There  was  an 
hysterical  din  of  tin-horns,  kazoos,  stamping 
of  feet,  and  the  clamor  of  a  multitude  of 
voices.  Gregg  fell  limply  into  a  chair,  apart 
from  the  others.  Mrs.  Baring  expelled  a  full 
breath  and  beneath  the  din,  said  to  McCord : 
"  Heavens,  what  a  marvellous  one-string  trick- 
fiddler  he  is !  I  feel  that  I've  been  the  string 
which  he's  played  all  his  tunes  on."  Then 
smiling,  she  added,  as  the  chiffon  at  her  throat 
fluttered  in  an  exhausted  sigh :  "How  frazzled 
out  that  sort  of  thing  leaves  one  !  " 

McCord  waved  his  hand  excitedly  and 
cried :  "  Why,  it  was  magnificent,  superb !  " 

Mrs.  Baring,  still  a  little  pale  and  a-tremble 
but  with  a  steady,  merry  eye,  shook  her  head 
and  replied  :  "  The  reincarnation  of  Marat, 
Jimmy ;  clever,  uncanny  legerdemain !  "  The 
applause  was  becoming  spasmodic.  McCord 
went  over  to  Gregg  and  put  out  his  hand,  and 
said  as  the  men's  hands  gripped  : 

"  It  was  most  wonderful,  sir ;  in  spirit  I 
bow  my  head  to  your  heel  as  the  knight  of 
old  bowed  to  his  king,  to  let  you  know  that 
222 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

henceforth  in  this  cause  I  am  your  man."  It 
was  rather  a  formal  speech,  but  McCord  did 
it  well,  and  that  night,  amid  a  crash  of  ap 
plause  the  ballots  were  cast  which  nominated 
by  acclamation  Dan  Gregg  of  Hancock  Coun 
ty  for  Governor  on  the  Non-partisan  Peo 
ple's  Party  ticket.  It  took  all  the  next  day 
to  nominate  the  other  candidates  on  the  State 
ticket.  William  Thomas,  McCord's  aversion, 
was  nominated  for  State  Treasurer.  A  woman 
writer  of  an  alliance  song- book,  who  had  never 
taught  school,  was  nominated  for  State  Super 
intendent  of  Instruction.  Mrs.  Baring's  broth 
er,  George  Evans,  a  short  grass  country 
school-teacher,  who  had  made  some  reputa 
tion  as  a  stump- speaker,  was  put  up  for  Sec 
retary  of  State,  a  rich  farmer  in  the  stock- 
raising  country  for  State  Auditor,  and  thus 
the  ticket  grew. 

Gregg's  nomination  took  him  off  his  feet, 
swept  away  his  bearings,  and  left  him  in  a 
state  of  spent  confusion.  By  nature  he  was  a 
leaner.  His  wife,  whom  he  had  leaned  on  in 
adversity,  he  felt  to  be  inadequate  in  pros 
perity.  He  did  not  consider  her  possible  as 
an  adviser,  and  in  truth  she  was  impossible. 
In  Pleasant  Ridge,  where  for  a  generation, 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

men  bad  despised  and  reviled  him  as  the  town 
infidel  and  the  Greenback  crank,  he  could 
think  of  no  one  to  whom  he  might  turn  for 
advice  and  strength.  He  hesitated  for  several 
days  before  he  followed  his  impulse  and  called 
upon  James  McCord.  Some  kind  dispensa 
tion  of  Providence  made  McCord  respond  to 
Gregg's  Macedonian  cry,  and  McCord  was 
made  chairman  of  the  State  Central  Committee 
at  Gregg's  request.  Two  weeks  after  the  con 
vention  adjourned  Gregg's  campaign  was 
going  on  in  a  business-like  manner.  For 
McCord  wras  methodical,  industrious,  and 
efficient.  But  he  was  not  a  leader.  Indeed, 
the  men  who  seem  to  be  leading  mobs  are 
really  led  by  mobs  ;  are  taken  off  their  feet 
by  waves  of  impulse  and  suggestion,  so  that 
mob-leaders  are  really  as  irresponsible  as  the 
mobs.  But  McCord  was  strong  He  was 
free  from  the  prevalent  mental  derangement ; 
ho  was  only  influenced  by  Gregg.  McCord 
surrendered  to  an  individual,  not  to  a  panic. 
So  he  directed  his  mob  with  considerable 
sanity.  And  yet  he  was  only  a  train-despatcher. 
He  did  not  furnish  the  motor;  that  came  from 
the  people.  No  man  could  have  generated  the 
wonderful  power  which  swept  the  Missouri 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

Valley  that  year.  It  came  as  a  cyclone  comes. 
It  was  a  product  of  conditions.  Gregg  him 
self  had  no  conception  of  the  force  behind 
him. 

One  morning  Gregg  and  McCord  sat  on  the 
State-house  steps,  reviewing  an  Alliance  pro 
cession.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  it  had  been 
filing  past  them  ;  bands  playing,  pyramids  of 
children  on  hay-racks  singing ;  from  farm 
wagons,  home-made  banners  flying ;  cheer 
ing  continually  rising ;  fife  and  drum  thrill 
ing  and  throbbing,  and  all  inspired  by  the 
blind  frenzied  faith  that  moves  mountains. 
For  two  months  Gregg  had  been  a  part  of 
similar  spectacles  every  day  in  his  campaign. 
Yet  he  could  not  grasp  their  import.  He 
had  been  daft  in  his  Greenback  days  when 
he  fancied  all  the  world  was  mad,  and  then 
when  the  votes  were  counted — but  Gregg  did 
not  like  to  think  of  those  times.  A  banner 
had  just  passed,  carried  by  the  old  soldiers, 
denouncing  the  President  of  the  United  States 
for  a  traitor  because  of  his  friendship  to  Wall 
Street,  when  Gregg,  who  had  been  looking 
at  the  festive  spectacle  for  a  long  time,  turned 
to  McCord  and  said  : 

"Say,   Mac,  just  think — Governor,  man! 


STEATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

I'm  running  for  Governor."  He  slapped  Mc- 
Cord  on  the  shoulder  and  exclaimed  with  a 
laugh :  "  Say  honest,  Mac !  wouldn't  it  nat 
urally  beat  hell  if  I  was  elected  ?  '' 

McCord  did  not  reply  for  two  minutes. 
The  children  filing  by  in  red,  white,  and  blue 
gowns,  singing  a  political  parody  on  "  Near 
the  Cross,''  gave  McCord  time  to  think. 
When  he  spoke  he  was  sighting  along  his 
cane  pointed  between  his  toes  over  the  bal 
cony  railing. 

"  You  will  probably  be  elected.  I  really 
believe  that  you  are  a  man  of  destiny,  and 
you'll  make  it  in  this  election." 

A  moment  later,  Gregg  saw  Mrs.  Baring 
approaching  with  a  young  man  whom  McCord 
identified  to  Gregg  as  Dick  Turner,  political 
correspondent  for  the  Post,  with  whom  Gregg 
held  an  interview  on  the  tin-plate  feature  of 
the  McKinley  bill.  Turner  was  a  stuttering, 
six-foot  Irishman,  who  afterward  accom 
panied  Gregg  on  his  speech-making  tour  dur 
ing  the  last  month  of  the  campaign. 

Mrs.  Baring  noticed  that  two  months  as  a 

public  character  with  a  national  reputation 

had  changed  Gregg  as  much  as  it  would  have 

changed  a  woman.     Living  an  entirely  emo- 

226 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

tional  life,  with  no  thought  of  anything  save 
the  exercise  of  his  power  over  the  multitude, 
he  had  been  forced  into  a  sort  of  artificial 
bloom.  She  watched  him  bow  to  the  pro 
cession,  smile  at  the  passing  group  cheering 
for  him,  and  literally  thrill  with  the  tumult 
of  the  hour.  And  she  saw  what  had  strength 
ened  his  carriage,  what  had  put  the  indefina 
ble  quality  one  calls  bearing  into  his  presence, 
what  had  given  him  something  like  distinction. 
But  she  noticed  also  that  his  clothes  were 
hopelessly  new,  and  that  he  had  not  yet  got 
control  of  his  cuffs.  As  Gregg  and  Turner 
talked  and  the  mob  went  swinging  by,  singing 
Gregg's  name  in  gospel  hymns,  throwing  flow 
ers  at  him,  all  but  worshipping  him  in  their 
ecstasy,  Mrs.  Baring  wondered  if  the  outward 
evolution  was  a  sign  of  inward  growth.  Later, 
after  Turner's  interview  was  done,  Gregg  tried 
to  take  her  into  the  conversation  with  McCord. 
Gregg  was  also  careful — and  this  Mrs.  Baring 
noticed  cynically — to  explain  twice  why  Mrs. 
Gregg  was  not  present.  Once  he  said  she  did 
not  care  for  parades  and  politics,  and  once  he 
explained  that  she  was  busy  putting  up  fruit 
and  could  not  get  away.  While  they  were 
talking,  a  military  band  from  the  Soldiers' 
227 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Home  stopped  in  front  of  the  party  and  ser 
enaded  Gregg.  And  at  the  climax  of  the  har 
mony  Mrs.  Baring  caught  Gregg  staring  at  her 
with  a  barbaric  curiosity  that  she  did  not  un 
derstand.  The  fine  exhalation  of  Mrs.  Bar 
ing's  femininity,  expressed  in  the  algebraic 
terms  of  a  well-gowned,  well-groomed  woman, 
was  soothing  Gregg's  nerves  like  a  perfumed 
breath.  This  much  Mrs.  Baring  knew,  that 
the  music  delighted  him,  and  that  he  seemed 
to  be  in  anguish  for  some  power  to  release  his 
gratification. 

When  Gregg  made  his  speech  from  the 
Capitol  steps  Mrs.  Baring  could  not  get  rid  of 
the  impression  that  he  was  an  actor  in  a  play, 
an  understudy  for  some  great  actor's  charac 
terization  of  Marat.  The  spectacle  was  nerve- 
racking.  The  lines  were  passionate.  The  act 
or's  business  was  realistic;  but  to  Mrs.  Baring 
it  was  always  Dan  Gregg  cast  as  Marat.  After 
the  harangue  was  finished,  while  the  mob  was 
milling  in  the  State-house  yard,  Gregg  turned 
to  Mrs.  Baring  and  said  : 

"Well,  madam,  don't  you  think  the  great 
plain  people  have  risen — by  this  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  indeed,"  she  answered  gayly. 
"There  is  no  doubt  of  that.  Why,  do  you 


A    MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

know  that  every  time  I  hear  a  wheel  grate 
on  my  driveway  these  days  I  fear  it  is  Citi 
zen  Gregg,  and  Citizen  McCord,  and  Citizen 
George  Evans,  coming  to  take  me  riding  in 
their  cart  to  the  guillotine." 

Mrs.  Baring  laughed  with  the  men  and 
waved  Gregg  and  McCord  a  pleasant  adieu. 
When  they  arrived  at  the  hotel,  Gregg  said: 
"  Say,  Mac,  what  about  that  Baring  woman  ? 
She's  a  new  one  on  me." 

When  McCord  had  told  Gregg  all  there 
was  to  tell,  Gregg  continued : 

"  So  that's  a  female  plutocrat,  is  it  ?  "  And 
then  he  added  after  meditation :  "  Seems  to 
be  kind  of  domesticated.  She  is  not  nearly 
as  ferocious  as  I  supposed.  Keally  bright 
woman."  Then  he  grinned  broadly  as  he  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Say,  Mac,  now  don't  you  suppose  that  she 
has  an  idea  that  I  go  about  the  country  growl 
ing  Fee  Fo  Fy  Fum  !  eh  ?  " 

Coming  events  must  have  cast  their  shadows 
before  Gregg,  for  he  gave  the  woman  more 
thought  that  day  than  he  gave  the  crime  of 
'73  ;  and  he  believed  that  he  was  considering 
a  type ! 

Gregg  had  assumed  a  proclamatory  air  in 

229 


public  from  the  moment  that  the  chairman  of 
the  State  Convention  introduced  him  as  the 
Abraham  Lincoln  of  the  Missouri  Valley. 
AVhenMcCord  called  Gregg  a  man  of  destiny, 
this  proclamatory  air  began  to  breathe  through 
his  private  conversation.  He  shook  his  head 
significantly  even  in  delivering  opinions  aboiit 
the  weather.  On  election  night  he  paced  the 
floor  in  McCord's  office  at  the  State  Central 
Committee's  head-quarters  and  for  two  hours 
heard,  almost  without  comment,  returns  which 
•verified  McCord's  prediction.  Gregg  looked 
at  the  world  through  squinting  eyes.  At 
eleven  o'clock  he  rose,  and  running  his  fin 
gers  through  his  hair,  said  ponderously,  so 
that  the  reporters  might  hear  : 

"Men,  the  American  people  have  risen. 
Revolution,  peaceful  if  it  may  be,  but  revolu 
tion  irresistible — has  begun.  There  is  much 
•work  ahead  of  us  all.  I  am  going  to  bed." 

He  tossed  his  head  as  he  emphasized  "  I " 
and  stalked  out  of  the  room.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  made  an  impressive  exit. 

The  next  morning  McCord  came  to  Gregg's 
room  carrying  an  armful  of  morning  papers 
with  Gregg's  pictures  on  the  front  pages, 
three  columns  wide.  Gregg,  at  a  mirror,  was 

230 


hooking  up  his  black  ready-made  tie.  When 
he  looked  up  from  the  pictures  his  eyes  were 
glittering  and  his  cheeks  flushed.  He  faced 
McCord  and  said : 

"  Mac,  what  do  you  suppose  all  this  means  ? 
A  year  ago  I  was  peddling  insurance  in  a  little 
old  grave-yard  of  a  town,  a  curb-stone  broker 
in  defunct  hopes.  To-day  I  am  elected  gov 
ernor  of  a  commonwealth,  with  a  great  popu 
lar  movement  at  my  back."  Gregg's  voice 
dropped  and  he  wagged  his  head  as  he  con 
tinued  : 

"  Mac,  I  have  always  scoffed  at  the  idea  that 
there  is  a  God,  but  I  may  be  wrong."  His 
voice  deepened  as  he  said :  "  Do  you  know, 
Mac,  I'd  try  to  pray  for  light  if  I  wasn't 
ashamed." 

McCord  did  not  reply,  but  looked  away  as 
a  man  should  at  such  times. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Mac,  that  felloAv  who 
introduced  me  to  the  State  Convention  as  the 
Abraham  Lincoln  of  the  Missouri  Valley  ?  " 

McCord  nodded. 

"  Lincoln  was  a  failure   in  life,  too,  for  a 

while,  wasn't  he  ?     Well,  maybe  there  is  a 

destiny  for — for — for  all  of  us,  Mac  ?  "     He 

smiled  apologetically   as  he  added :     "  You 

231 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

know  there  is  a  line  of  Ironquill's,  been  sing 
ing  in  my  head  all  through  this  thing,  and  I 
can't  get  it  out : 

"  I  am  the  child  of  fate, 
What  doth  it  matter  me — " 

McCord  began  gathering  up  the  papers  and 
laughed. 

"  "What  we  both  need,  I  fancy,  is  a  little 
less  manifest  destiny  on  dreams  and  a  little 
more  eggs  on  toast.  Come  on  to  breakfast, 
Gregg." 

A  month  later  Gregg  sat  three  mortal  days 
in  the  parlor  of  his  home  at  Pleasant  Ridge, 
with  his  feet  locked  around  the  legs  of  the 
centre-table  trying  to  write  his  inaugural  ad-> 
dress.  It  was  to  be  his  first  public  document 
and  he  was  so  impressed  that  for  the  life  of 
him  he  could  not  get  further  than,  "  We  are 
on  the  verge  of  a  great  social  and  economic 
crisis.  The  old  order  has  been  swept  away." 
On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  he  sent  a 
telegram  asking  Dick  Turner  of  the  Post  to 
come  to  Pleasant  Ridge.  And  Dick  Turner 
came  to  be  Gregg's  private  secretary.  Mr. 
Turner  went  home,  took  down  his  "  Bartlett's 
Quotations "  and  his  "  Dictionary  of  My- 
232 


A    MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

thology,"  and  got  up  an  inaugural  address 
that  kept  the  New  York  Sun  in  spirits  for 
nearly  a  year.  The  thing  reeked  with  classic 
allusions  and  was  sticky  with  the  blood  of 
revolution. 

Gregg  spent  the  week  before  the  inaugural 
event  at  the  capital  and  took  the  oath  of  office 
wearing  a  black  frock-coat  and  pearl-gray 
trousers  and  a  black  tie.  McCord  and  Mrs. 
Baring  planned  what  Mrs.  Baring  called 
Gregg's  make-up.  During  the  ceremonies 
Mrs.  Baring  took  charge  of  Mrs.  Gregg.  Little, 
thin,  faded,  in  a  new  flimsy,  shiny  black 
satin,  with  cheap  jet  twinkling  over  the  flat 
front  of  it,  Mrs.  Gregg  was  the  pitiful  feature 
of  the  triumph.  Little  Danetta  Gregg,  thirteen 
years  old,  gawky,  in  squeaky  shoes,  and  all 
legs,  a  replica  of  her  mother's  confusion  and 
embarrassment.  While  the  band  was  play 
ing  Mrs.  Gregg  fingered  her  hat  and  faltered 
the  explanation  to  Mrs.  Baring  that  she  really 
wished  to  get  a  bonnet,  but  he  didn't  like 
them,  because  they  made  her  look  too  old ; 
she  guessed  that  he  liked  this  hat  because  it 
had  such  a  lot  of  red  roses  on  it.  Later,  after 
Mrs.  Baring  had  pointed  out  the  dignitaries 
in  the  audience,  Mrs.  Gregg,  who  seemed  to 
233 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

be  greatly  awed,  apologized  nervously  that  she 
supposed  she  ought  to  have  got  her  some  new 
teeth,  but  that  she  had  been  putting  it  off  for 
two  years  and  had  just  never  got  around  to  it. 

The  inaugural  occasion  was  worthy  of 
Gregg's  best  effort.  For  the  whole  country 
was  watching  in  a  kind  of  awed  amazement 
for  the  dreadful  things  Dan  Gregg  would  do. 
Gregg  knew  this  and  he  used  the  situation 
as  a  dramatic  accessory  to  make  his  address 
and  the  inaugural  scene  effective.  Mrs.  Bar 
ing  thought  Marat  was  admirably  done. 
There  was  a  fine  repression  about  the  busi 
ness  —  speaking  again  theatrically  —  that 
struck  Mrs.  Baring  as  artistic  to  a  high  de 
gree.  Yet  Gregg's  voice  repeating  the  oath 
of  office  left  a  quiver  in  her  nerves. 

After  inauguration  day,  Mrs.  Gregg  went 
back  to  Pleasant  Ridge.  She  said  that 
she  and  the  Governor  didn't  like  to  take  the 
children  out  of  school — they  were  doing  so 
well.  Gregg  did  not  go  to  Pleasant  Ridge 
during  the  winter  session  of  the  Legislature, 
and  Mrs.  Gregg  came  up  only  once. 

By  the  end  of  his  first  week  as  governor, 
Gregg  had  promised,  unwittingly,  but  with 
much  pomp,  one  office  to  three  candidates, 
234 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

and  was  beginning  to  wear  an  injured  and 
hunted  look.  McCord  considered  Gregg's 
weakness  in  duplicating  his  promises  the 
result  of  inexperience  and  cheerfully  helped 
Gregg  to  straighten  out  his  snarls.  But  the 
day  that  Gregg's  first  batch  of  appointments 
went  to  the  Senate,  McCord  was  as  much  sur 
prised  as  any  one  at  most  of  them,  and  940 
office-seeking  revolutionists  went  home  and 
made  remarks  about  Gregg  that  wouldn't 
circulate  in  the  mails.  McCord  complained 
that  Gregg  had  turned  the  state  administra 
tion  into  a  pasture  for  war  horses  of  reform  ; 
but  Gregg  answered  that  he  was  only  redeem 
ing  his  pledges  to  the  people.  When  Gregg 
offered  to  McCord  his  choice  of  any  office  in 
the  State,  McCord  took  insurance  commis 
sioner.  He  gave  up  his  place  in  the  State 
University,  and  devoted  himself  conscien 
tiously  and  effectively  to  his  work.  But  the 
other  officials  whom  Gregg  had  named,  forgot 
the  civic  ideals  that  they  had  put  in  the 
patter  of  their  campaign  speeches  and  took 
the  jobs — as  offices  were  called  in  the  par 
lance — for  the  money  there  was  in  them.  So 
when  grass  came  the  world  had  forgotten  the 
dreadful  things  that  Governor  Gregg  was  go- 

235 


STRATAGEMS    AXD    SPOILS 

ing  to  do.  The  Gregg  administration  settled 
down  to  a  routine,  and  Gregg's  party  papers 
began  to  abuse  him  as  party  papers  have  been 
abusing  governors  since  the  world  began. 
Life  for  Governor  Gregg  was  nearly  idyllic. 
Scarcely  a  week  passed  that  he  did  not  de 
liver  what  he  considered  an  epoch-making 
speech,  and  the  Cause  called  him  to  many 
States.  His  picture  was  taken  so  many 
times  that  he  thought  that  some  day  the  State 
Historical  Society  would  have  to  devote  an 
entire  room  to  his  photographs.  He  didn't 
have  time  to  listen  to  complaints.  Dick 
Turner  was  discovering  that  a  good  place  for 
State  newspapers  with  articles  in  them  abus 
ing  Gregg,  was  in  the  waste-basket.  And 
Gregg  was  settling  down  to  live  happily  ever 
after! 

McCord  took  Gregg  in  hand  socially.  Gov 
ernors  of  Western  States  rarely  find  them 
selves  in  what  may  be  called  the  best  society 
circles.  Society  in  the  West  is  organized  on  t 
of  politics.  The  nearest  approach  Gregg  made 
to  society  was  when  McCord  took  the  Gov 
ernor,  and  occasionally  Dick  Turner,  to  the 
dinners  which  Mrs.  Baring  was  giving  to  her 
brother,  George  Evans,  the  State  Auditor.  To 
236 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

Gregg  these  events  became  more  and  more 
important,  as  the  cumulative  education  from 
them  quickened  his  appreciation.  To  be  a 
part,  even  for  an  hour,  of  a  home  where  there 
were  books,  and  the  talk  of  books  and  music 
and  pictures  and  beautiful  women  of  a  type 
hitherto  undreamed  of  by  Gregg,  was  as  new 
and  as  desirable  an  experience  to  him  as  that 
of  wielding  power.  Before  summer  closed 
Gregg  began  to  anticipate  his  pleasure  at 
Mrs.  Baring's  dinners  for  days  in  advance, 
and  his  anticipation  came  to  be  epitomized 
by  the  mental  picture  of  Mrs.  Baring — suave, 
gracious,  with  laughing,  sexless  blue  eyes, 
with  a  plump  figure  kept  well  in  hand,  and 
with  youth — preserved,  of  course,  but  sweet 
and  full  of  tang,  radiating  from  her  presence. 
During  the  winter  George  Evans  gradually 
dropped  out  of  the  dinners  and  they  became 
council  boards.  Mrs.  Baring  joined  the 
councils  as  a  matter  of  course.  Gregg  used 
to  save  what  he  considered  his  brightest  epi 
grams  for  these  dinners,  and  he  always 
watched  for  Mrs.  Baring's  laugh. 

Mrs.  Baring  got  into  the  habit  of  dropping 
into  her  brother's  office  in  the  State-house,  a 
room  across  the  hall  from  Gregg's  office,  and 
237 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

when  the  Governor  saw  her  coming  up  the 
walk  leading  to  the  Capitol  he  used  to  send 
Turner  to  the  auditor's  office  with  an  invita 
tion  for  Mrs.  Baring  to  come  over  and  help 
them  govern.  He  transacted  little  business 
while  he  was  waiting.  In  the  second  year  of 
Gregg's  term  Mrs.  Baring  always  knew  that 
the  Governor  was  out  of  town  when  she  failed 
to  receive  this  invitation. 

Dick  Turner  observed  two  things  early  in 
his  service  :  First,  that  when  Gregg  saw  the 
letters  which  began  to  flood  the  office  mail, 
late  in  the  first  year  of  his  administration, 
written  by  the  guardians  of  patients  in  the 
State  charitable  institutions,  complaining  of 
the  treatment  of  their  wards,  it  made  Gregg 
irritable  for  an  entire  day ;  secondly,  that  it 
did  not  help  matters  with  the  wards.  So  the 
young  man  took  care  of  these  letters  himself. 
He  answered  the  complaints  about  the  man 
agement  of  the  asylum  for  blind  children,  and 
about  the  food  at  the  school  for  the  deaf  and 
dumb  children  and  elsewhere,  and  letters  com 
plaining  of  brutalities  at  the  boys'  reform 
school,  and  the  insane  asylums,  and  all  letters 
containing  what  Turner  called  "  kicks,"  with 
a  form  which  the  stenographers  called  "No. 
238 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

18."  This  form  said  that  the  matter  had  been 
brought  to  the  notice  of  the  Governor,  and 
that  he  would  give  it  his  immediate  personal 
attention. 

So  naturally  Gregg  knew  little  of  all  that 
was  beginning  to  buzz  about  him.  But  he 
was  increasing  his  statesmanly  equipment 
materially.  During  his  first  eighteen  months 
in  office  he  committed  to  memory  many  Lin 
coln  stories.  He  had  been  cartooned  in 
Judge  as  a  monkey,  and  had  persuaded 
McCord  to  have  the  cartoon  reproduced  in  a 
campaign  circular  beside  the  Civil  War  car 
toons  of  Lincoln  as  a  baboon.  He  went  to 
school  to  Dick  Turner,  learned  how  to  play 
whist  and  how  to  tie  his  own  necktie,  and  that 
a  dark  hat  looks  well  with  a  light  suit. 

But  because  Gregg  was  blind  with  his 
dream  of  power,  he  could  not  see  that  the  peo 
ple  of  his  State  had  returned  to  reason.  The 
plague  that  was  upon  them  was  lifting.  It 
went  as  strangely  as  it  came.  The  death  of 
the  mania  that  bound  the  people  was  invisible, 
like  the  death  of  a  soul ;  yet  the  passing  was 
real.  It  left  the  people  sane.  That  which 
had  stirred  them  was  no  longer  powerful. 
The  charm  words  fell  on  deaf  ears ;  the  hyp- 
239 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

notic  slogans  brought  forth  no  response.  The 
fetishes  ceased  to  terrify.  The  lamps  in  the 
school-houses  were  not  lighted.  The  sound 
of  voices  in  the  night  hushed,  and  the  blind 
ing  fanaticism  that  enveloped  the  people  rose 
like  a  cloud  of  locusts,  and  men  saw  things 
in  their  true  order  and  in  real  relations  to 
one  another.  Heaven,  that  permitted  the  pes 
tilence  to  rage,  knows  what  brought  it,  and 
what  took  it  away.  But  Gregg,  who  saw 
through  a  glass  darkly,  thought  all  the  world 
was  mad  as  he  was,  and  he  raved  through  his 
second  campaign  in  a  fine  frenzy.  But 
McCord,  who  remained  chairman  of  the  State 
Central  Committee,  felt  what  he  could  not  de 
fine,  and  dared  not  tell  Gregg,  that  the  party 
was  waning.  There  were  crowds,  of  course, 
at  the  meetings ;  there  was  applause  after  the 
oratorical  climaxes  ;  there  was  even  talk  here 
and  there  of  new  converts  in  the  towns.  But 
the  old  enthusiasm,  the  wild,  reckless  ecstasy 
was  gone.  The  party  organization  was  more 
perfect — but  McCord  could  not  help  feeling 
that  it  was  hope  of  spoils  rather  than  zeal  to 
bring  about  the  great  reformation  that  was 
moving  the  committeemen.  They  were  com- 
mitteemen,  not  disciples,  who  replied  to  his 

240 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

letters.  And  the  letters  seemed  to  McCord, 
in  spite  of  their  formal  encouragement,  hand 
writing  on  the  wall. 

One  day,  late  in  October,  Gregg  came  to 
the  office  unexpectedly  from  a  speaking  tour, 
aud  absent-mindedly  began  to  look  over  the 
mail.  A  letter  from  a  mother  complaining 
that  her  daughter  had  died  from  gross  neg 
lect  in  the  asylum  for  the  blind  children, 
attracted  Gregg.  The  mother's  proofs  of 
neglect  were  terribly  convincing  and  Gregg 
shuddered,  and  for  a  minute  sat  drumming 
his  fingers  on  his  desk  trying  to  think  just 
how  to  proceed  to  relieve  the  matter  without 
compromising  his  political  friends.  But  a 
messenger  boy  brought  a  telegram  from  the 
New  York  Recorder,  asking  for  Gregg's  opin 
ion  on  the  Homestead  strike.  Gregg  rose 
and  paced  the  floor  as  he  dictated  this  : 

"  Three  thousand  years  ago,  according  to 
Holy  Writ,  Tubal  Cain  forged  pruning  hooks 
from  spears,  ploughshares  from  swords.  To 
day  Capital  is  running  the  blacksmith  shop 
and  is  forging  the  implements  of  peace  back 
into  weapons  of  war.  The  men  who  bore 
these  implements  in  the  orchard  and  the 
furrow,  are  now  drilling  with  accoutrements 
241 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

of  war  behind  Carnegie's  barricades.  Capital 
has  appealed  from  brain  to  brawn,  from  right 
to  might.  To-day  the  barricade  is  between  two 
armies.  To-morrow  the  barricade  will  fall  and 
there  will  be  but  one  army,  determined, 
invulnerable,  arrayed  against  capitalistic  op 
pression.  The  fires  of  battle  melted  the 
shackles  that  Lincoln  struck  from  4,000,000 
slaves.  In  the  fires  of  the  coming  battle 
some  man  of  destiny  will  arise  and  strike 
the  shackles  from  50,000,000  white  slaves  in 
America.  Who  that  man  of  destiny  will  be 
no  one  knows  ;  but  Andrew  Carnegie  is  his 
imperial  Caesar,  John  C.  Frick  his  Herod, 
and  Terence  V.  Powderly  is  the  voice  crying 
in  the  wilderness." 

When  the  stenographer  was  taking  the  last 
sheet  from  the  typewriting  machine,  Gregg 
saw  Mrs.  Baring  passing  his  office  door,  going 
to  her  brother's  office.  She  looked  in  as  he 
looked  up,  and  they  shook  hands  on  the 
threshold  with,  "  Well,  well,  so  you're  back 
are  you,"  and  "  Come  right  in,  I've  been 
wanting  to  see  you  all  the  afternoon."  After 
the  little  commotion  of  greeting  had  sub 
sided,  Gregg  dismissed  the  stenographer  and 
Mrs.  Baring  found  herself  sitting  in  a  chair, 
242 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

protesting :  "  But  I  can't  stay.  I  must  go," 
while  Gregg,  flushed,  happy,  squared  the 
manuscript  of  his  statement  for  the  New  York 
paper  in  his  hand  and  returned :  "  Now  you 
just  hold  on  a  minute;  I've  got  something 
here  I  want  to  read  to  you.  I  think  it's 
pretty  good." 

Mrs.  Baring  repeated  her  protest,  laugh 
ingly,  but  did  not  rise.  Gregg,  gray-clad, 
olive-skinned,  with  a  mop  of  coarse  black 
hair,  and  with  the  necessary  dash  of  scarlet 
in  his  cravat,  began  to  read — rather  to  declaim 
his  article  to  Mrs.  Baring,  pacing  the  rug  be 
fore  her,  chafing  under  the  lash  of  his  own 
rhetoric.  She  was  not  heeding  his  words. 
She  was  conscious  only  of  the  modulations  of 
his  mesmeric  voice  and  was  following  him 
with  an  absent  stare. 

When  he  had  finished  he  asked  eagerly: 
"  Well,  how  is  it  ?  "  She  took  the  paper  from 
him  and  read  the  article  through.  With  her 
head  poised  critically  on  one  side  she  said 
sedately,  "  Well,  it  seems  to  be  a  case  of 
Spartacus,  and  Bienzi  and  Patrick  Henry '  also 
ran'!" 

They  both  laughed  and  Mrs.  Baring  said  : 
"  Don't  you  mean  invincible  where  you  say 
243 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

invulnerable  ?  "  He  nodded  approval.  He 
was  buoyant,  effervescent,  irresponsible.  As 
she  made  the  correction  he  bent  over  her 
shoulder,  apparently  to  follow  her  changes. 
His  coat  brushed  her  arm ;  his  personality 
invested  her  and  enveloped  her  and  seemed 
to  smother  her.  And  the  thrill  that  pierced 
her  heart  shrivelled  the  roots  of  her  moral 
sense.  But  she  looked  up  at  Gregg  so  coldly 
that  he  shivered  away  in  a  kind  of  nervous 
tremor.  He  was  standing  behind  her  and 
she  could  not  see  his  face.  He  burst  forth 
passionately  :  "  God !  what  a  mockery  life 
is !  What  apples  of  Sodom  is  success !  "  He 
put  his  hands  to  his  head  and  exclaimed  bit 
terly  :  "  Here  I  am — with  the  highest  office 
in  the  land  in  easy  reach  of  my  sane  ambi 
tion  —  chained  — hopelessly  chained  —  bound 
like  a  slave  to  my  fetters  in  Pleasant  Kidge. 
Whatever  heights  I  may  reach,  I  am  still 
that  Dan  Gregg  of  Pleasant  Ridge — hob 
bled —  maimed  —  accursed."  He  wrung  his 
hands  and  cried,  "  Oh,  for  some  God  to  snap 
the  fetters  of  our  yesterdays ! "  His  face 
twitched,  his  lips  moved,  but  made  no  sound. 
He  sank  into  a  chair  and  rested  his  chin  in 
his  hands,  looking  at  the  lloor.  Mrs.  Baring 
244 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

looked  blankly  at  an  open  window  and 
drummed  with  the  pencil  on  the  table.  The 
affairs  of  the  world  moved  on  outside  :  The 
voices  of  men  at  work  on  the  State-house 
lawn,  the  patter  of  feet  along  the  tiled  corri 
dors,  the  tinkle  of  typewriter  bells  in  ad 
joining  rooms  slipped  through  the  stillness  of 
the  place.  When  the  clock  had  marked  a 
long  heavy  minute,  Mrs.  Baring  rose  and 
said  in  a  listless  voice : 

"  Well,  I  must  be  going." 

She  was  on  her  feet  before  Gregg  sighed 
heavily  : 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

When  she  was  gone,  he  stood  for  a  long 
time  with  his  hands  deep  in  his  trousers 
pockets  and  his  head  bowed. 

The  letter  from  the  bereaved  mother  was 
answered  by  "  Form  No.  18  "  unknown  to 
Gregg.  He  forgot  the  mother's  complaint 
until  one  night  a  week  later,  when  he  prom 
ised  himself  to  take  the  matter  up  after  elec 
tion. 

By  reason  of  her  social  position,  Mrs.  Bar 
ing  heard  much  about  the  Gregg  adminis 
tration  that  in  the  nature  of  things  could  not 
come  to  the  Governor  nor  to  McCord.  After 
245 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

the  State  found  that  the  Gregg  revolution  was 
not  forthcoming,  that  capital  was  not  to  be 
declared  contraband  by  proclamation,  the 
more  radical  revolutionists  began  to  sneer, 
while  those  whom  he  called  the  plutocrats 
jeered  at  Gregg  and  his  work.  After  Gregg 
was  nominated  for  a  second  term,  the  atti 
tude  of  the  people,  as  Mrs.  Baring  perceived 
it,  began  to  worry  her,  and  she  felt  a  vague 
doubt,  as  the  time  for  the  second  election 
drew  near,  of  Gregg's  success.  She  held 
Gregg's  creed  in  contempt,  yet  she  was  bit 
ten  by  a  hungry  ambition  to  see  Gregg  win, 
in  spite  of  his  creed — even  if  he  won  by 
spreading  it.  She  could  not  talk  to  Gregg  of 
her  fear  of  the  outcome  of  the  election.  She 
did  not  care  to  show  her  interest  to  McCord. 
But  there  was  Turner.  One  night  when  Gregg 
and  McCord  were  out  of  town  campaigning, 
Turner  came  alone  to  the  Saturday  evening 
dinner  at  Mrs.  Baring's.  At  the  end  of  the 
meal  Mrs.  Baring  had  Turner  stuttering  : 

"  The  d-difference  between  the  head  of  th- 
this  administration  and  its  s-several  b- 
branches  is  f-fundamental.  Dan  Gregg  has 
his  head  in  the  c-clouds,  and  the  others  have 
their  f-feet  in  the  trough." 
24G 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

"Are  they  making  much?"  laughed  Mrs. 
Baring. 

"  W-well,"  replied  Turner  reflectively,  "  I 
s-suppose  they  are.  I  know  one  m-nian  who 
p-paid  a  director  of  the  p-penitentiary  as  much 
as  f-four  dollars  and  s-seventy-five  cents  for  a 
c-concession  worth  a  thousand  d-dollars,  and 
the  b-blamed  d-director  thought  he  was  m- 
making  a  big  thing  and  having  a  d-devilish  1- 
liaison." 

"  "Why  don't  you  tell  the  Governor  all  this, 
Dick  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Baring,  after  a  moment's 
pause. 

Turner  tapped  his  coffee-cup  with  his  spoon 
in  meditation  :  "  Gregg  is  a  in-mail  of  d-des- 
tiny.  W-what  in  th-thunder  do  you  s-sup 
pose  a  man  of  destiny  knows  about  p-pigs  in 
c-clover?  If  I  should  t-tell  him  they  were 
s-serving  pork  affected  with  t-t-trichina  and 
c-condemned  by  the  G-government  to  the 
children  of  the  b-blind  asylum,  he'd  s-s-s-say 
he  was  s-sorry  and  ask  me  to  write  a  letter  and 
s-stop  it,  and  then  he'd  forget  all  about  it, 
while  he  read  a  new  1-life  of  Lincoln  or  p-put  a 
fresh  t-twist  in  the  British  1-lion's  tail.  A 
m-man  of  d-destiny  has  more  business  than  a 
b-bird  pup." 

247 


STRATAGEMS    AND    SPOILS 

"  Why  don't  you  try  your  own  hand  ?  Go 
in  and  make  a  record,"  suggested  his  hostess. 

"  Y-yes,  1-like  the  old  woman  that  k-kept 
tavern  in  Indiana,"  replied  Turner.  "T-t-this 
administration  should  t-take  out  a  ch-charter 
for  the  m-manufacture  of  whistles  from  p- 
pigs'  tails.  If  you  were  p-president  of  a  rail 
road  how  would  you  g-go  at  it  to  g-get  a  train 
started,  if  every  m-man  from  g-general  super 
intendent  to  w-wiper  in  the  r-round  house, 
held  his  j-job  because  he  could  t-talk  on  tlio 
m-money  question,  or  was  old  p-persimmons 
on  the  tariff?" 

As  they  entered  Mrs.  Baring's  library 
Turner  resumed  his  discourse:  "Th-that 
fellow  McCord  is  p-pretty  s-smart.  He's 
p -practical,  all  right.  But  the  r-rest  are  either 
engaged  in  p-petty  larceny  or  are  busy  c-count- 
ing  their  t-toes  so's  they'll  know  howm-many 
they've  g-got." 

It  is  hardly  fair  to  say  that  there  was  a  bad 
odor  about  the  Gregg  administration.  Yet  a 
man  with  a  keen  nose  for  scandal — such  a 
nose  as  McCord  had — was  always  sniffing  in 
tangible  things  in  the  air.  The  way  a  well- 
known  lottery  man  spoke  to  the  Attorney-Gen 
eral's  clerk  on  the  street,  the  easy,  impudent, 
248 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

swinging  gait  of  the  chief  of  the  oleomargar 
ine  lobby  walking  into  the  meeting  of  the 
State  Board  of  Charities,  the  mysterious  dis 
appearance  of  the  carpets  in  unused  legisla 
tive  committee  rooms,  the  surprising  increase 
in  the  number  of  lead-pencils  and  stamps 
consumed  by  State  officers,  the  deficit  in  the 
Governor's  contingent  fund,  the  appearance 
of  diamonds  on  the  shirt  front  of  the  secre 
tary  of  the  railroad  commission — these  and  a 
hundred  similar  signs  of  the  times  worried 
and  harassed  and  embarrassed  McCord.  But 
he  could  find  no  substantial  basis  for  the 
half-formed  conjecture  that  things  were  out 
of  joint  with  the  administration.  He  prodded 
into  Gregg's  private  business  affairs  in  cas 
ual  conversation,  and  satisfied  himself  that 
if  irregularities  in  the  State  administration 
existed,  the  Governor  had  no  conscious  part 
in  them.  For  Gregg  spent  most  of  his  time 
speech-making  and  otherwise  promoting  what 
he  called  the  Cause.  Shortly  before  election, 
when  McCord  was  straining  every  nerve  to 
get  money  into  the  State  Committee's  treas 
ury,  and  just  before  the  final  October  poll  of 
the  State  reached  him,  William  Thomas  told 
McCord  that  a  certain  Omaha  packing-house 
240 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

could  be  made  to  contribute  a  thousand  dol 
lars.  Thomas  offered  to  negotiate  the  busi 
ness  preliminary  to  the  contribution.  In  an 
hour's  confidential  talk  with  Thomas,  McCord 
found  that  the  packing-house  was  furnishing 
meat  to  all  the  State  institutions,  and  in  con 
sequence,  that  there  was  what  Thomas  called 
"  velvet  "  in  it  for  a  group  of  the  State  offi 
cers,  and  several  members  of  the  purchasing 
committee  of  the  State  Board  of  Charities. 
The  Treasurer's  story  was  told  so  naively,  and 
so  utterly  without  the  consciousness  of  guilt, 
that  McCord  did  not  rebuke  the  narrator. 
When  he  had  finished,  McCord's  impulse  was 
to  lock  the  door  and  call  a  policeman.  In 
stead  he  offered  Thomas  a  cigar,  looked  out 
of  the  window  and  said  casually  : 

"  Well,  that's  pretty  good,  but  where  does 
the  Governor  come  in  on  the  deal  ?  "  An 
irritated  expression  twitched  Thomas's  face 
as  he  knocked  his  pipe  in  his  hand  and 
answered : 

"  Oh — damn  Gregg — a  man  who  is  running 
for  president  and  saving  the  great  plain  peo 
ple,  has  his  hands  too  full  to  bother  with  the 
main  chance."  When  Thomas  left  the  room, 
McCord  sat  motionless  at  his  desk  for  half  an 
250 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

hour,  staring  at  the  address  on  an  old  envel 
ope  lying  before  him.  Gregg  was  out  of 
town  with  campaign  engagements  for  ten 
days.  In  those  ten  days  McCord  visited  a 
dozen  State  institutions  and  came  back  with 
a  roll  of  papers  in  his  little  green  leather 
bag.  At  his  office,  he  was  confronted  by 
his  last  poll  of  the  State,  showing  a  discour 
aging  condition  of  affairs  for  his  party.  He 
recognized  that  some  strong  move  was  neces 
sary  to  save  even  a  portion  of  the  ticket. 
McCord  was  stumbling  in  a  maze  of  irritated 
perplexity.  The  first  day  Gregg  spent  in 
town  after  McCord's  session  with  Thomas, 
McCord  started  for  the  Governor's  office,  car 
rying  the  little  green  leather  bag. 

As  McCord  passed  his  desk,  he  picked  up 
a  paper  in  an  unfamiliar  manila  wrapper 
addressed  to  him  and  marked  personal. 
Shucking  off  the  wrapper  as  he  went  down 
the  corridor  to  the  elevator,  McCord  saw  that 
the  paper  was  the  Fountain  County  Palla 
dium,  containing  a  marked  article  attacking 
Gregg  viciously.  McCord  attached  no  im 
portance  to  it.  The  editor  of  the  Palladium 
had  been  promised  the  railroad  commission- 
ship  by  Gregg — told  in  fact  in  the  bumptious 
251 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

mad  first  days  of  Gregg's  official  career  that  he 
was  an  ideal  man  for  railroad  commissioner, 
the  very  man  among  a  thousand — and  then 
offered  Fish  Warden  after  Gregg's  appoint 
ments  had  been  made.  McCord  glanced 
through  the  article  as  he  walked,  but  when 
he  came  to  this  paragraph,  he  stood  in  his 
tracks  and  read  and  re-read  : 

"  Nor  is  this  the  worst :  No  one  has  seen 
Dan  Gregg  with  the  wife  of  his  youth  since 
he  was  inaugurated.  It  is  a  matter  of  open 
and  scandalous  comment  in  Hancock  and 
Fountain  and  adjoining  counties  in  the  west 
ern  part  of  the  State,  that  he  lets  her  live  alone 
with  her  children  at  Pleasant  Ridge,  in  a 
little  iiupainted  house  in  the  weeds  and  sun 
flowers.  Dan  Gregg  has  money  to  bedeck 
himself  in  red  neckties  and  tailor-made 
clothes,  but  not  one  penny  to  improve  the 
God-forsaken  place  his  wife  has  to  call  home. 
He  has  time  to  gallivant  around  the  country, 
making  bombastic  speeches  for  his  own  glory, 
but  he  has  not  found  time  to  cross  his  door 
step  since  Decoration  Day.  Justice  to  a  de 
serted  wife  and  her  children  demands  that  the 
people  of  this  State  kick  this  pretentious  ras 
cal  back  to  his  duty.  For  a  broken-hearted 
252 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

wife  is  the  only  practical  result  that  has  come 
from  the  first  term  of  the  Gregg  administra 
tion  ;  a  second  term  can  only  guarantee  to  the 
people  the  next  inevitable  step  :  a  divorce, 
and  some  seal-skin  sack  siren  to  flaunt  her 
infamy  under  the  protection  of  a  legal  but 
none  the  less  scandalous  and  shameful  mar 
riage." 

McCord  relieved  himself  of  a  disgusted 
snort  and  bolted  into  the  Governor's  office. 
He  brushed  by  Turner  and  the  stenographers 
and  entered  Gregg's  private  room,  red-faced 
and  wrathful.  As  he  dropped  his  green 
leather  bag  on  a  chair,  McCord  saw  a  copy  of 
the  Fountain  County  Palladium  spread  out 
on  the  desk.  His  nervous  irritation,  the  re 
sult  of  a  month's  uncertainty  and  worry, 
found  voice  as  he  pointed  to  the  open  news 
paper  and  exclaimed : 

"  I  want  to  see  you  about  a  lot  of  things, 
and  that's  one  of  them."  Gregg  looked 
up  startled,  and  answered,  smiling  rather 
weakly  : 

""Well,  what  about  it?"  emphasizing 
"  about." 

And  McCord  retorted  :  "Well,  what  about 
it  ?  "  jerking  his  head  to  emphasize  the  "  what." 
253 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

"  I  mean  that  reference  to  your  family  rela 
tions." 

Gregg's  face  reflected  a  groping  in  his  heart 
for  a  ready  lie  as  he  fumbled  with  a  sentence. 
McCord  checked  him,  and  cried  impatiently  : 

"  Now,  Gregg,  I  want  the  plain  truth  about 
this,  and  I  don't  want  it  varnished — either." 

Gregg  rested  his  head  on  his  hand  which 
held  his  pen.  He  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
then  he  grumbled  :  "  I  send  my  wife  money 
— all  she  needs,  I  guess — every  month.  I 
write  to  her  regularly.  She  doesn't  like  it 
here — I  can't  get  down  there  much,  for  you 
know  as  well  as  I  do  I'm  busy."  Gregg 
paused.  McCord  interjected: 

"  But  Gregg,  look  here " 

"  Well,  look  here  then,"  impatiently,  "  if 
Mrs.  Gregg  wants  to  live  her  way,  and  I  want 
to  live  my  way,  and  I  let  her,  and  she  lets 
me,  whose  damn  business  is  it  but  ours  ?  " 

McCord  answered  roughly  :  "  Well,  it's  my 
business  for  one.  So  long  as  I  am  chair 
man  of  the  State  Central  Committee,  and  it's 
my  business  to  pull  you  through  this  election 
— if  I  can — it's  my  right  to  know  the  truth 
about  everything  that  will  influence  votes, 
sir!" 

2-H 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

Gregg  put  his  pen  to  the  paper  and  began 
writing  as  he  returned  indifferently  : 

"  Well,  I've  told  you  all  I  know ;  if  you 
want  to  know  more  you'll  have  to  go  some 
where  else." 

McCord  sat  patting  his  foot  on  the  floor, 
nervously,  and  looked  angrily  at  the  Governor 
some  time  before  speaking.  Finally  McCord 
said :  "  There  are  some  other  things  I  want 
to  talk  to  you  about  too." 

Gregg  rose,  yawned  and  stretched,  and  re 
plied  as  he  began  a  tour  of  the  windows  of 
the  room  :  "  Well,  bang  away  !  "  McCord 
took  a  full  breath  before  the  plunge  and  said  : 
"  I  would  like  to  know  what  you  think  of 
George  Evans  ?  " 

"  Why,  he's  a  good  enough  fellow,"  re 
sponded  the  Governor,  gazing  out  of  the  win 
dow,  and  suddenly  identifying  a  distinguished 
looking  figure  in  the  broad  avenue  leading  to 
the  Capitol  as  Mrs.  Baring. 

"  However — he's  a  thief ! "  grunted  McCord, 
as  his  hands  fell  emphatically  on  his  chair 
arms.  Gregg  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at 
McCord  an  instant  and  McCord  continued : 
"  What  do  you  think  of  Bill  Thomas  by  this 
time?" 

255 


Gregg's  eyes  were  moving  along  the  asphalt 
path  approaching  the  State-house  as  he  re 
plied  :  "  I  dunno ;  he  makes  a  good  enough 
treasurer,  I  guess." 

"  Probably — but  he's  a  thief,  too,"  snapped 
McCord.  "  So's  your  whole  board  of  charities 
and  your  penitentiary  directors." 

Gregg  was  watching  for  a  nod  of  greeting 
from  below  and  did  not  answer  McCord,  who 
went  on  abruptly  :  "  About  a  month  ago  I 
heard  hints  of  a  scandal  at  the  Soldiers' 
Home.  I  had  been  hearing  the  same  thing 
about  the  Insane  Asylum,  and  I  have  felt 
that  something  was  wrong  at  the  Institu 
tion  for  the  Blind  and  at  the  Penitentiary  for 
six  months.  I  got  it  out  of  Bill  Thomas  ten 
days  ago  that  he  and  George  Evans  and  your 
board  of  charities  and  your  penitentiary  di 
rectors  had  made  §8,000  in  the  last  six  months 
on  a  food-supply  contract  for  these  institu 
tions.  I've  just  visited  these  institutions  and 
got  affidavits  from  cooks  and  superintendents 
to  prove  that  the  meat  furnished  to  the  State 
wards  is  diseased  and  condemned,  and  that 
the  other  food  is  impure,  adulterated,  and  often 
decayed.  The  death-rate  in  the  State  in 
stitutions  has  risen  twenty  per  cent,  in  the 
256 


last  eighteen  months;  this  $8,000  is  blood- 
money,  sir." 

McCord  paused.  The  stale  unconscious 
smile  on  Gregg's  face  when  he  turned  from 
the  window  withered  into  a  stupid  stare.  He 
moistened  his  lips  and  inquired  : 

"  Do — do  do — the  Hep — do  the  other  fel 
lows  know  it  ?  "  As  he  spoke  he  moved  to 
another  window  where  he  could  tip-toe  and 
see  the  lower  steps  leading  to  the  main  en 
trance  of  the  State-house.  McCord  did  not 
answer  but  cried  impatiently  : 

"  Does  murder  interest  you,  Dan  Gregg  ?  " 

After  a  moment,  Gregg  turned  from  the  win 
dow  and  repeated  his  question  :  "  Do  the  Ke- 
publicans  know  it  ?  Don't  you  think  they're 
holding  it  off  until  two  or  three  days  before 
election  ?  We  must  get  some  fellows  to  make 
counter  affidavits  and  spring  it  now."  Gregg 
strode  toward  his  desk,  his  eyes  blazing,  his 
face  alert.  He  shut  McCord  off  oratorically 
with  :  "I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do — we'll  get 
the  World — Herald  to  sa,y  that  the  story  leaked 
from  Republican  head- quarters,  and  I've  got  a 
dozen  appointees  in  every  institution  in  the 
State  who'll  swear  black  is  white  if  we  need 
'em." 

257 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

"But,"  McCord  expostulated  violently,  "I 
tell  you  it's  true  ! " 

Gregg  was  standing  near  a  door  openiug 
into  the  corridor  listening  to  the  passing  foot 
steps. 

"  Heavens,  man — what  if  it  is  !  That  don't 
help  matters  any.  We've  got  to  deny  it !  " 
exclaimed  Gregg. 

"  Deny !  deny  nothing !  You've  got  to  act !  " 

"To  act?  How?"  this  querulously  from 
Gregg. 

"  To  call  stop  thief  !  To  cut  yourself  loose 
from  this  outfit  and  fire  the  whole  kit  and 
boodle!" 

"  When  ?  "  Gregg  was  still  listening  to  the 
footsteps  passing  in  the  corridor. 

"Now,"  exploded  McCord,  slapping  his 
hands  together  in  exasperation.  The  open 
ing  and  closing  of  the  door  of  George  Evans's 
office  across  the  corridor  jarred  the  silence, 
during  which  the  meaning  of  McCord's  de 
mand  broke  upon  Gregg. 

"  That — that — why  that  would  defeat  the 
State  ticket,"  he  stammered. 

"  No,  sir ;  it's  the  only  thing  on  earth  that 
will  save  it."  McCord  was  puzzled  and  dis 
concerted  at  Gregg's  apparent  pre-occupation. 
258 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

McCord  felt  that  he  held  but  half  of  Gregg's 
attention,  and  wondered  where  the  other  half 
was  straying.  He  looked  at  Gregg  a  moment, 
and  continued  vigorously :  "  Do  you  know, 
sir,  that  the  people  are  deserting  your  ticket 
by  the  thousands  right  now !  And  unless 
you  show  them  some  strong  sign  that  these 
scandals  in  the  air  are  not  of  your  conniv 
ance,  nor  even  of  your  tolerance,  you  and 
your  whole  ticket  are  doomed.  You've  got 
to  repudiate  and  denounce  Evans  and  Thomas, 
and  you've  got  to  discharge  every  member  of 
your  tainted  boards."  His  voice  dropped  and 
he  added,  conclusively  :  "  It's  that  or  defeat 
now,  Dan  Gregg,  and  it's  your  next  move." 
McCord  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room, 
and  added  :  "  If  you  don't  publish  these  affi 
davits,  I  feel  that  I  must,  and  right  now,  too  ! 
I  went  into  this  thing  for  reform,  Dan  Gregg, 
and  I  don't  propose  to  compromise  on  mur 
der — even  if  you  do." 

Gregg  walked  to  McCord,  and  pinioned  him 
with  blazing  eyes.  Gripping  his  companion 
by  the  shoulder,  Gregg  hissed  :  "  You're  a 
damn  traitor." 

McCord    brushed    Gregg    away,    saying : 
"  Stuff  and  nonsense." 
259 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

Gregg,  with  a  part  of  his  consciousness  sen 
tinelled  at  George  Evans's  door,  flung  out  a 
long  arm  and  bony  hand  and  thundered  : 

"  Listen  to  me.  You  ask  if  murder  inter 
ests  Dan  Gregg.  Do  I  look  like  a  murderer  ? 
You  show  me  twenty  or  thirty  crazy  people 
and  paupers  dead  of  what  you  say  is  criminal 
neglect  or  poor  food.  But  I  can  show  you  a 
million  workmen,  tramping  the  streets  of  our 
cities,  starving  for  want  of  even  such  food  as 
you  complain  of."  He  leaned  over  and 
pounded  his  desk,  and  McCord's  mind's  eye 
kept  seeing  the  words,  "the  God-forsaken 
place  called  home,"  as  Gregg  continued  : 
"And  yet  (thump)  you'd  let  these  million 
men  starve,  and  a  million  women  barter  their 
immortal  souls  for  bread  that  you  may  give 
your  crazy  people  fresh  porterhouse  steak 
three  times  a  day.  Great  God  !  " 

"Don't  be  a  demagogue  with  me,  sir," 
sniffed  McCord,  as  he  dropped  into  a  chair. 


"  A  demagogue  ?  A  demagogue  ?  "  shouted 
Gregg,  to  the  sentinel  in  the  corridor.  "  He 
tells  Dan  Gregg  not  to  be  a  demagogue  !  Is 
a  man  a  demagogue  if  he  gives  ear  when  a 
million  fellow-creatures  are  crying  in  dis- 
200 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

tress?  Whoso  putteth  his  hand  to  the 
plough,  let  him  not  turn  back."  McCord, 
who  sat  watching  Gregg,  buffetted  by  a  tem 
pest  of  passion,  wondered  if  these  were  the 
tactics  of  a  man  who  was  going  wrong.  Gregg 
shook  his  clinched  fist  and  cried  :  "  I  tell 
you,  it  were  better  that  every  ward  of  this 
State  should  rot  in  his  cell,  than  that  our 
cause  should  fail  at  this  election.  And  be 
fore  a  just  and  living  God,  Jim  McCord,  I 
would  issue  an  order  to  destroy  them  all  if  I 
believed  our  success  demanded  it.  Don't 
tempt  me  to  dally  with  my  destiny,  man. 
You  say  the  people  are  deserting  us.  I  say 
in  two  years  the  whole  West,  and  in  four 
years  the  whole  nation  will  rally  to  our 
cause."  Suddenly  he  dropped  his  rhetoricals 
and  pleaded  : 

"  You  ain't  going  to  be  a  fool,  are  you, 
Mac  ?  Now,  lookee  here."  Gregg  pulled  his 
chair  up  to  McCord's.  "  I  want  to  be  fair. 
Just  as  soon  as  this  election  is  over,  we'll 
have  a  little  private  investigation  and  get 
matters  straightened  up.  How's  that  ?  " 

McCord  rose  as  he  returned  :  "  No,  it  won't 
do.  There  is  a  chance  that  Thomas  and 
Evans  may  be  elected  then."  When  Mc- 
261 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

Cord  reached  for  his  hat,  Gregg  caught  Mc- 
Cord's  arm  imploringly  and  begged  :  "  Think 
of  the  poor  wronged  people,  Mac,  how  they 
have  rallied  to  us,  how  they  look  to  us  to 
shield  them  from  oppression.  Remember 
the  poor  farmers  who  are  being  robbed  of 
their  homes,  Mac,  try  to  pity  them  as  well  as 
your  crazy  folks.  Don't  ruin  them,  Mac, 
don't,  don't!" 

McCord  pulled  away  from  Gregg,  and  re 
torted  :  "I  hardly  think  that  a  State  admin 
istration  incapable  of  handling  a  thousand 
State  wards  without  wholesale  murder,  can 
give  much  substantial  relief  to  anyone.  But 
I  want  to  give  you  one  more  chance.  I  am 
going  to  leave  these  affidavits  here,  and  I 
want  you  to  read  them  all  carefully.  If  you 
decide  to  act  on  them,  all  right,  but  if  not — 
well,  I  don't  want  to  think  you  are  a  paste 
board  fake,  Dan  Gregg." 

McCord  laid  the  roll  of  affidavits  on  Gregg's 
desk,  and  before  the  door  to  Gregg's  outer 
office  had  closed  on  McCord,  Gregg  had  a 
messenger  on  the  way  to  Mrs.  Baring  in 
George  Evans's  office.  In  a  restless  interval 
of  waiting,  Gregg  called  Dick  Turner. 

"  See  here,  Dick,"  said  the  Governor  as 
2(J2 


A    MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

Turner  cocked  his  feet  on  the  gubernatorial 
desk,  "Mac's  just  been  telling  me  that  the 
grocery  houses  and  packing  houses  have  paid 
eight  or  ten  thousand  dollars  for  protection 
for  furnishing  spoiled  groceries  and  con 
demned  meat  to  the  State  institutions.  What 
is  there  in  it  ?  " 

Turner  blew  a  ring  of  smoke,  and  watched 
it  dissolve  before  answering  :  "  Well,  there's 
s-some  blue  s-sky,  and  s-some  thin  air,  and 
a  d-dime's  worth  of  truth  in  it ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Gregg,  fret 
fully.  Turner  replied : 

"  Wh-when  we  came  in  our  fellows  found 
that  the  p-packiug  houses  and  the  g-grocers 
were  putting  up  to  the  opposition.  It  was 
either  t-take  that  money  for  our  committee  or 
g-give  the  other  f-f-fellows  s-siuews  of  war. 
So  we  d-d-de-horned  the  dilemma.  Mac  is 
such  a  p-perfect  1-lady  that  the  fellows  thought 
he  might  be  sh-shocked  at  the  t-transaction. 
So  Bill  Thomas  and  George  Evans,  and  three 
or  f-four  fellows  on  the  boards  p-put  the 
money  into  the  committee  as  p-private  con 
tributions." 

Turner  puffed  at  his  pipe  before  adding : 
"  As  f-far  as  his  t-talk  about  the  s-supplies 
2(53 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

being  b-bad  is  concerned  I  don't  understand 
that  even  the  m-miracle  of  the  1-loaves  and 
f-fishes  was  a  p-pure  food  show.  The  m-mul- 
titude  was  hungry  and  t-took  what  it  could 
g-get." 

Gregg  persisted  petulantly :  "  I  know,  Dick, 
but  here's  a  lot  of  affidavits  McCord's  got  up 
to  prove  the  food  is  rotten  and  is  increasing 
the  death-rate.  We  can't  stand  that  you, 
know,  Dick ;  that's  practically  murder !  " 

Turner  walked  the  floor  with  one  hand  in 
his  coat  pocket.  "  You  b-bet,"  he  rejoined, 
"  the  p-p-professor  has  figured  it  all  out.  It's 
m-m-murder,  Governor ;  James  McCord's  a 
g-good  man,  and  I  l-love  him,  but  give  him  a 
p-pencil  and  paper  and  a  c-c-column  of  s-sta- 
tistics,  and  he  b-becomes  a  raging  Abyssinian 
lion.  You  know  I  have  a  th-theory  that  when 
the  devil  fails  to  make  a  point  any  other 
w-way  he  re-resorts  to  statistics." 

Turner  broke  the  silence  by  asking : 
"What's  Mac's  idea?  Wh-what  does  he 
want  you  to  d-do  ?  " 

"  O,  Lord !  Of  course  I  can't  do  what  he 
wants  me  to  do,  but  I  ought  to  do  something, 
Dick.  He  wants  me  to  fire  everyone  con 
nected  with  the — the  transac — the  arrange- 
2G4 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

merit,  and  denounce  Evans  and  Thomas  and 
appeal  to  the  people.  What  shall  I  do,  Dick  ? 
What  shall  I  do?" 

Turner  grinned  as  he  replied  :  "  Well,  he 
d-doesn't  w-want  much." 

"  No,  and  he's  got  a  stack  of  affidavits  from 
cooks  and  superintendents  in  the  various  in 
stitutions,  and  if  I  don't  do  as  he  asks  he's 
going  to  print  them  ! "  Turner  whistled. 
Gregg  proceeded  :  "  Dick,  it  seems  to  me 
one  of  two  things  :  either  do  what  Mac  wants 
me  to  do  or  stand  by  friends  on  the  State 
ticket.  What  shall  I  do,  Dick — what  shall  I 
do  ?  "  While  Turner  was  filling  his  pipe  and 
considering  the  matter,  Gregg  walked  to  an 
ante-room  and  called  to  a  boy  :  "  Did  you 
deliver  my  message  a  little  bit  ago  ?  "  He 
came  back  to  Turner  and  went  on  :  "  The 
people  are  with  me,  Dick,  stronger  and  surer 
than  ever ;  and  I  can't  afford  to  risk  their  in 
terests  in  this  election,  and  Jim  McCord  can't 
make  me !  What  do  you  think?  " 

"  Are  t-those  his  affidavits,"  asked  Turner, 
pointing  to  the  package  in  Gregg's  hand. 
Gregg  nodded.  "  D-do  you  w-want  to  know 
what  I'd  d-do  ? "  Again  Gregg  assented. 
"  Well,  th-these  are  his  high  cards.  He 
265 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

c-can't  bluff  on  a  d-deuce,  c-can  he  ?  "  Gregg 
looked  puzzled.  "  Well,  it's  this  way.  You 
c-can  f-find  your  own  excuse  for  k-keeping 
them,  but  if  you  g-give  those  p-papers  back, 
you're  a  d-damn  f-fool." 

"  Well,  that's  easy  enough  to  say ;  but  what 
would  you  tell  him  when  he  asks  for  them  ?  " 
grumbled  Gregg.  Turner  grinned  broadly  and 
looked  from  the  smouldering  fire  in  the  grate 
to  the  papers  and  back  to  the  fire  again,  and 
stuttered :  "  W-well,  you  m-might  t-tell  him 
that  the  n-nights  were  g-gettiug  chilly  and 
you  n-need  more  fire." 

Turner's  insinuating  temptation  stuck  in 
Gregg's  consciousness  like  a  thorn.  He 
picked  up  the  roll  of  affidavits  and  handled 
them  as  a  thief  toys  with  his  plunder.  Then 
Gregg  heard  a  door  across  the  corridor  open 
and  shut.  He  rose,  still  dallying  with  the 
affidavits  and  crossed  the  room,  saying,  "  Yes, 
but  what  do  you  suppose  Mac  would — 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing  c-certain,"  laughed 
Turner,  "he  w-wouldn't  d-do  y-you !  " 

An  instant  afterward  Gregg  had  the  door 

open  for  Mrs.  Baring.     Turner,  who  rose  to 

greet  her,  did  not  sit  down  again,  but  hurried 

out  —  almost     precipitately,     Mrs.     Buring 

266 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

thought.  She  wondered  self-consciously,  if 
Turner  knew  that  the  Governor  had  sent  for 
her.  Mrs.  Baring  noticed  the  Governor's  dis 
hevelled  hair,  and  the  shimmer  in  his  eyes. 
She  tried  nervously  to  make  trivial  conversa 
tion,  but  Gregg  burst  the  darn  of  convention 
with : 

"  What  do  I  care  for  the  weather  or  the 
rain  or  the  campaign  !  I  sent  for  you  because 
I  want  you — because  I  need  you  ;  because  I 
am  in  trouble,  and  I  have  no  God  that  I  can 
pray  to,  so  I  turn  to  you  ! " 

She  saw  a  tide  of  emotion  rising  in  Gregg ; 
she  was  fascinated  by  the  power  and  grip  of 
the  flood.  It  seemed  artificial — a  stage  effect ; 
but  Gregg  came  to  her  and  fixed  her  gaze  as 
he  cried : 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  you  desert  me ! 
They  all  mock  me  but  you— you  and  destiny! 
You  two  beckon  me — you  two  inspire  me ! " 
As  the  emotion  rose  in  Gregg,  Mrs.  Baring 
felt  her  poise  and  balance  totter.  "  I  sent  for 
you  because  I  have  so  many  things  to  say — 
things  that  I  wanted  to  say  before  and  could 
not.  Maybe  I  can't  now,  but  you  must  un 
derstand  anyhow !  I  want  your  help.  I 
need  your  advice.  I've  reached  a  great  crisis. 
267 


STEATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

My  cause  is  in  danger  and  all  my  future  is 
jeopardized."  Gregg  held  her  gaze  for  a  mo 
ment  with  a  brooding  eye  and  went  on  :  "If 
I  win  at  this  election  it  means  that  I  may 
some  day  be  President  of  these  United  States. 
For  if  our  party  proves  itself  stable — and  our 
ideas  prove  themselves  worthy  of  re-indorse 
ment  at  this  election,  it  means  that  the  coun 
try  is  ready  to  realize  the  ideal  which  we 
proclaim.  But  if  we  fail  here  and  now— 
and  Gregg  flung  his  arms  with  an  impatient 
gesture,  and  glowered  from  the  papers  in  his 
hand  to  the  fire  in  the  grate,  and  then  took 
up  his  discourse  abruptly — "  And  in  the  face 
of  all  this  Jim  McCord  is  going  back  on  me." 

Mrs.  Baring,  who  was  contemplating  him 
with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  exclaimed :  "  Oh, 
no!" 

"  Well,  he  is,"  persisted  Gregg.  "  He 
wants  me,  right  on  the  eve  of  this  election, 
to  come  out  and  denounce  your  brother  and 
Treasurer  Thomas  for  irregularities  in  the 
food-supply  contracts.  And  ho  wants  me  to 
discharge  most  of  the  members  of  my  State 
boards.  He's  not  satisfied  with  my  promise 
to  investigate  this  business  after  election ; 
but  he  insists  on  resigning  his  chairmanship 
208 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

to-morrow  and  publishing  these  affidavits 
against  these  men,''  and  Gregg  flourished  the 
papers  viciously,  "  if  I  don't  do  exactly  as  he 
says.  These  affidavits,  whether  they  are  true 
or  false,  coming  out  just  at  this  time  are 
enough  to  beat  us.  But  Mac  won't  listen  to 
my  way.  It's  rule  or  ruin  with  him." 

Gregg  twisted  the  affidavits  a  moment  in 
both  hands,  and  struck  the  desk  with  the  pa 
pers  furiously  and  broke  out :  "  What  does 
Jim  McCord  know  about  this  movement  ?  A 
little  poll  book,  and  a  paper  and  pencil,  and 
a  kind  of  buttered-toast  conscience, — and 
you've  got  him.  But  I'll  show  this  chicken- 
broth  statesman  that  Dan  Gregg  don't  cringe 
for  no  hair-splitting,  scandal-peddling,  short- 
haired  old  maid.  Let  him  bring  on  his  scan 
dals.  Let  him  unlock  his  school-house  full 
of  bogies  and  let  hell  out  for  noon.  He  can't 
scare  Dan  Gregg,"  and  in  the  palsy  of  passion 
that  shook  him,  the  papers  in  his  outstretched 
hand  rustled  like  leaves  on  a  blighted  tree ; 
and  Mrs.  Baring,  tip-toeing  in  the  lifting  tide 
of  Gregg's  emotion,  clung  to  the  edge  of  the 
desk  in  front  of  her  until  her  finger-nails 
showed  white.  "  Not  with  your  face  and  my 
destiny  smiling  at  me." 
209 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

His  tone  deepened  and  the  shimmer  in  his 
eyes  glowed  into  a  blaze  as  he  went  on  :  "I 
told  yon  I  was  chained  to  my  environment. 
I  told  you  I  was  bound  to  a  rock,  gnawed  by 
the  vultures  of  my  past.  I  told  you  that  I 
was  fettered  to  my  old  self."  Crushing  the 
papers  in  his  hand,  Gregg  leaned  toward  Mrs. 
Baring,  whose  face  was  blanching  and  who 
scarcely  breathed  as  he  proceeded  :  "  But  I  am 
not.  I  lied.  '  I'm  a  child  of  fate,  what  doth  it 
matter  to  me.'  I  am  going  to  break  my  chains. 
Do  you  understand  ? — snap  them  and  rise  and 
walk  with  the  destiny  that  I  know  is  waiting 
me.  And  I  am  going  to  begin  right  now." 

The  emotional  tide  swept  over  Mrs.  Baring, 
but  the  last  thing  that  she  saw  was  Gregg 
flinging  McCord's  affidavits  on  the  smoulder 
ing  fire.  Gregg  watched  them  smoke  and  un 
curl  and  grow  brown  as  he  said  :  "  I  am  young 
yet.  I  am  strong  enough  to  overcome  any 
thing  that  God,  man,  or  devil  may  put  before 
me.  If — only  just  one  thing  happens — if  you 
— if  you  don't  hate  me.  If  you  respect  me — if 
you  stand  by  me,"  Gregg's  eyes  followed  the 
little  teeth  of  fire  which  were  nibbling  at  the 
corners  of  the  crumpled  papers.  "  McCord 
won't — he's  a  jelly  man.  He  was  pulling  his 
270 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

milk  and  sugar  morality  to-day.  But  you 
will  stand  by  me — you  are  brave — you  are 
iron — my  God,  you  are  iron.  I  know  it,  and 
what  do  I  care  for  Jim  McCord  and  his  affi 
davits."  He  continued  hoarsely:  "Jim  Mc 
Cord  arches  his  back  up  to  my  leg  and  purrs 
and  sings — the  old  tabby — about  my  duty! 
— about  my  duty  down  in  Pleasant  Ridge." 
A  little  wing  of  flame  flickered  among  the  pa 
pers  and  Gregg  clutched  Mrs.  Baring's  arm. 
"  Does  Jim  McCord  jump  in  the  creek  and 
drown  himself  just  because  a  lot  of  his  litter 
were  drowned  before  they  got  their  eyes  open  ? 
My  eyes  are  open.  I  see  my  higher  duty  to 
my  people,  to  my  race,  and  to  my  God — if 
there  is  one.  But  I  wanted  to  tell  you  first 
to  know  that  you  agreed ;  to  know  that 

you- 

Mrs.  Baring  got  to  her  feet  in  spite  of 
Gregg's  tightening  grasp.  She  tried  to  speak, 
but  she  was  checked  by  the  sound  of  footfalls 
approaching  the  corridor  door.  In  another 
instant  a  hand  was  at  the  door  knob.  Mrs. 
Baring  whirled  about  toward  a  window.  Gregg 
— clumsy,  man- wise — faced  McCord  and  Mrs. 
Gregg,  who  were  standing  in  the  doorway. 
The  Governor  was  still  leaning  toward  Mrs. 
271 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

Baring.  He  relaxed  after  Mrs.  Gregg  and 
McCord  entered.  McCord  saw  Gregg's  quak 
ing  hand  and  his  suffused  face.  Then  he  saw 
Mrs.  Baring's  back.  Mrs.  Gregg  noticed 
nothing.  Mrs.  Baring  turned  and  met  Mc- 
Cord's  eyes  and  saw  whom  he  had  brought 
in,  as  he  was  saying  gently  : 

"  Here  he  is,  Mrs.  Gregg ;  I  knew  we'd  find 
them  here." 

A  sudden  mounting  blaze  in  the  grate  at 
tracted  McCord's  attention.  He  recognized 
his  affidavits  in  the  burning  papers  and  stood 
astounded.  Then  in  an  impulse  of  blind 
rage,  he  seized  the  poker  in  a  vain  effort  to 
rescue  the  burning  papers.  Ho  looked  up 
and  met  the  eyes  of  Gregg  and  Mrs.  Baring. 
For  a  moment  his  rage  craved  a  physical  re 
lief.  He  ached  to  hit  Gregg.  But  instead  ho 
had  to  listen  to  Mrs.  Gregg's  voice,  which 
gnawed  at  his  nerves  like  a  corroding  poison, 
saying : 

"  Dan'l,  I  seen  that  piece  in  the  Palladium 
yesterday ;  somebody  sent  it  to  me.  I  don't 
know  what  it  means,  but  I  thought  I'd  best 
get  on  the  cars  and  come  right  to  you."  Her 
voice  was  dull,  miserable,  expressionless.  She 
continued  :  "  I  thought  you'd  need  me.  For 


A   MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

I  didn't  sleep  a  wink  all  last  night,  and  I 
haven't  had  the  heart  to  take  a  bite  to  eat.  I 
just  thought  I'd  come  right  up."  The  pitiful 
attitude  of  the  wife,  the  dead  monotonous 
tone  of  her  voice,  touched  McCord,  until  Gregg 
answered  : 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right— that's  all  right— don't 
be  foolish ;  it's  all  in  the  game  of  politics.  If 
I  was  you  I'd  not  lose  any  sleep  about  any 
thing  you  see  in  the  newspapers  about  me." 
Gregg  let  his  irritation  rasp  his  voice.  His 
wife  went  up  to  him  and  said  : 

"  Why,  Pa  !  " 

And  then  she  added  :  "Now,  Pa,  you  just 
ask  Mrs.  Baring  what  she'd  'a'  done  in  my 
place."  Mrs.  Gregg  turned  to  Mrs.  Baring 
who  had  been  a  mute,  puzzled  spectator,  and 
said  :  "  He  lays  such  great  store  by  every 
thing  you  say  and  do,  and  I  want  you  to  just 
read  this  piece— the  piece  marked  there,  and 
see  if  it  ain't  enough  to  make  me  worry." 
She  handed  the  folded  paper  to  Mrs.  Baring. 
McCord,  still  wrestling  with  his  demon  of 
wrath,  sought  the  secret  of  Mrs.  Baring's 
perturbed  and  horrified  face  as  she  read. 
Gregg  also  was  watching  her  face,  and  Mc 
Cord  saw  Gregg's  jaw  drop  and  his  eyes 

273 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

show    terrified     white     eyeballs,    but    Mrs. 
Gregg  babbled  on : 

"  I've  been  a  hard-working  woman  all  my 
life,  and  I  don't  see  what  the  papers  want  to 
print  a  lot  of  stuff  like  that  for  about  us. 
Pore  Danetta  she  cried  too,  and  just  wanted 
to  set  right  down  and  write  to  the  editor,  but 
I  told  her  that  wasn't  no  use."  She  wiped 
away  a  straggling  tear  with  her  knuckle. 
"  But  I  sh'd  think  they'd  know  maybe  chil 
dren  had  some  natural  feelings  before  print 
ing  such  tilings."  She  was  still  running  on 
drearily  when  Mrs.  Baring  finished  the  para 
graph  and  lifted  her  dazed  and  worried  eyes 
to  the  tableau  about  her.  She  saw  Gregg 
first — a  frightened  animal  leaning  against  a 
wall,  with  a  strange— and  to  Mrs.  Baring — 
new  weakness  in  his  limp  features.  He  was 
moistening  his  lips  in  a  disgustingly  animal 
way,  and  Mrs.  Baring's  eyes  revolted  from 
him  and  met  the  repressed  fury  gleaming  like 
a  masked  battery  behind  McCord's  curious, 
cynical  gaze.  She  saw  Mrs.  Gregg  in  her 
skimp,  weather-stained,  black  alpaca,  her 
little  cheap,  dusty,  black  straw  hat,  with  its 
scant  home-made  bow  of  black  ribbon  ;  Mrs. 
Baring  saw  the  tremble  in  Mrs.  Gregg's  toil- 
274 


stained  hand  trying  vainly  to  tuck  in  the 
straggly  ends  of  hair  around  her  face.  The 
surcharged  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  be 
ginning  to  affect  Mrs.  Gregg.  She  felt  for 
lorn  and  friendless  in  it.  She  closed  her 
monologue  with  a  question  to  Mrs.  Baring  : 
"  Wasn't  I  right  to  come  up  here,  Mrs.  Bar 
ing  ?  I  says  to  'Nettie,  well,  it's  my  duty  to 
be  with  your  pa  in  this  crisis  ;  so  I  come.  I 
don't  see  why  I  shouldn't,  do  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Baring  was  speechless  for  a  moment ; 
her  lips  seemed  stiff  and  lifeless.  She  felt  a 
tremor  within  her  that  was  spreading  to  every 
muscle  in  her  body.  But  she  rallied  her  will 
and  replied  : 

"  I  think  you  did  exactly  right,  Mrs. 
Gregg." 

Then  McCord  turned  to  Mrs.  Baring,  who 
was  moving  toward  the  door,  and  said  : 

"Shall  we  go  now?" 

As  she  turned  to  leave,  Mrs.  Baring  saw 
Gregg  still  leaning  against  the  wall,  with  his 
head  dropped  between  stooping  shoulders 
looking  after  her  furtively.  He  had  reverted 
to  his  caste.  It  was  the  closest  glimpse  Mrs. 
Baring  ever  had  of  the  man  they  knew  in 
Pleasant  Ridge.  A  sickening  revulsion  fol- 
275 


STBATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

lowed  her  in  the  silent  walk  with  McCord 
down  the  cool  dark  corridor.  At  the  door 
she  said  : 

"  Thank  you,  James,  you  needn't  go  any 
further."  And  she  walked  wearily  away,  look 
ing  at  the  ground,  which  was  unusual  for  Mrs. 
Baring. 

Gregg  sent  his  wife  home  to  Pleasant  Ridge, 
and  plunged  into  the  last  week  of  his  cam 
paign  with  a  vigor  that  surprised  his  parti 
sans.  They  did  not  know  that  his  activity 
was  a  counter-irritant  for  the  wound  his  van 
ity  had  received  in  the  room  with  McCord 
and  Mrs.  Baring.  Gregg  essayed  his  old  role 
on  the  stump.  He  stormed  and  strutted  upon 
the  platform  ;  he  played  with  the  modulations 
of  his  resonant  voice  ;  he  coined  nipping  epi 
grams,  but  even  his  most  effective  business 
was  unsatisfactory.  For  the  irresponsible 
state — the  self-hypnosis,  which  changed  hini 
and  gave  him  his  hypnotic  power — would  not 
come.  Instead,  sleeping  or  waking,  speaking 
or  as  he  rode  over  the  plains  between  his 
meetings,  the  rankle  of  the  festering  wound 
in  his  pride  came  to  his  consciousness  and 
held  him  on  a  rack.  In  the  meantime,  Tur 
ner  wondered  much  what  McCord  thought  of 
276 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

Gregg's  burning  the  affidavits.  The  day 
before  election  Turner  overhauled  McCor-d 
and  asked  him  squarely  how  matters  stood 
between  him  and  Gregg.  McCord  answered 
reflectively : 

"  Well,  Dick,  this  time  last  week  I  was 
pretty  hot  under  the  collar.  I  think  I  was 
almost  as  mad  as  a  man  generally  gets — when 
I  saw  what  he'd  done.  Any  man  would  be. 
But  one  day  last  week  Gregg  came  to  my  of 
fice  and  began  patronizing  me  jauntily,  and 
told  me  that  my  intentions  were  all  right,  but 
that  I  was  not  practical.  The  fellow  is  so 
eaten  up  with  mad  vanity,  Dick,  and  he  stood 
around  bragging  about  his  hold  on  the  people 
and  his  higher  duty  as  their  leader,  that  I 
couldn't  help  pitying  him — '  dreadin'  what 
I've  got  to  watch,  the  color-sergeant  said.' 
The  poor  devil,  I  let  him  talk  on  and  went 
about  my  business." 

About  nine  o'clock  on  election  day  Gregg 
gave  out  a  confident  statement  to  the  report 
ers  for  the  afternoon  papers.  He  had  forgot 
ten  to  register  and  his  vote  at  Pleasant  Kidge 
was  lost.  So  he  sat  in  his  office  that  morn 
ing,  tilted  in  his  chair  with  his  head  hanging 
back  in  a  basket  made  with  his  big  bony 
277 


STRATAGEMS   AXD    SPOILS 

hands.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  to  speculate 
about  his  election  any  more  than  about  the 
sunrise.  He  was  repeating  over  and  over  in 
a  whisper:  "I  am  the  child  of  fate,  what  doth 
it  matter  me."  Then,  as  a  man  drifts  illogi- 
cally  in  a  dream  from  one  train  of  fancy  to 
another,  Gregg  kept  saying  to  himself  :  "  A 
new  man  in  '96.  A  new  man  in  '96." 

His  eyes  burned  and  his  hair  was  a-tumble 
when  the  boy  brought  the  morning  mail  with 
the  Omaha  papers  in  it.  Glancing  over  the 
Bee,  Gregg  saw  a  New  York  Post  interview 
with  Senator  Felt  of  a  New  England  State  on 
the  National  political  outlook.  Gregg's  party 
and  Felt's  were  fusing  in  Gregg's  election 
and  naturally  Gregg  coveted  Felt's  good-will. 
Half  way  down  the  column  Felt  was  discuss 
ing  Missouri  Valley  politics,  and  Gregg  caught 
these  words  : 

"  Two  years  ago  there  rose  out  of  the  sage 
brush  one  Dan  Gregg,  a  kind  of  political  wild 
man  of  Borneo.  He  was  elected  Governor  of 
his  State  and  for  a  few  months  threatened  to 
figure  in  National  politics.  He  seems  to  have 
been  a  combination  of  Robespierre,  Webster, 
and  Herr  Most.  He  was  the  product  of  a 
fanaticism.  I  speak  of  him  in  the  past.  He 
278 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

has  effervesced.  His  people  have  become 
sane  again.  He  is  passing  to  that  political 
bourne  from  which  no  traveller  e'er  returns. 
His  defeat  for  re-election  is  conceded.  And 
as  he  is  weak,  vacillating,  and  erratic,  he  will 
have  no  personal  force  to  regain  his  power 
when  once  it  passes  from  him." 

When  Gregg  finished  reading  it  his  heart 
was  thumping  on  his  ribs  and  his  hands  were 
clinched.  For  the  first  time  he  saw  the  bub 
ble  he  had  blown  and  cherished  endangered. 
His  reason  fluttered  to  the  border  of  hysteria. 
It  was  an  hour  before  his  mind's  eye  could 
look  at  the  burning  bruise  of  doubt  on  his 
destiny  which  Felt's  blow  had  brought.  As 
his  soul  reeled  slowly  in  and  quickly  out  of 
poise,  time  and  again,  the  shadow  of  Dan 
Gregg,  the  town  infidel  of  Pleasant  Ridge,  of 
Dan  Gregg,  the  dreamer,  of  Dan  Gregg,  the 
practical  politician,  kept  blurring  the  shadow 
of  Dan  Gregg,  the  "child  of  fate"  that  fell  on 
the  white  paper  before  him  which  he  was  cov 
ering  with  large  O's  and  sentences  and  parts 
of  sentences  like  this :  "  For  the  people,  by 
the  people,  of  the  people- — A.  Lincoln," 
"  Equal  rights  to  all,  special  privileges  to  none 
-D.  Gregg." 

279 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

At  one  o'clock  Turner  found  Gregg  nervous 
and  haggard,  sitting  at  his  desk,  gazing  at 
nothing.  His  first  words  were  :  "  Dick,  she's 
all  right,  ain't  she?  Everything's  coming  our 
way,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Turner  felt  Gregg's  mood  and  answered  : 

"  Oh,  y-yes,  don't  w-w-worry.  It'll  be  all 
r-right,  I  g-guess." 

Gregg  jumped  to  his  feet  and  exclaimed  in 
an  uncontrolled  voice  :  "  You  guess  !  Why, 
man,  don't  you  know  ?  Don't  you  know  ? 
Don't  you  know  ?  " 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  and  ha 
rangued  Turner  :  "  I've  been  a  friend  of  the 
people.  I've  sacrificed  all  for  them.  I've 
suffered,  I've  borne  taunts.  I've  put  aside 
temptations  for  them.  The  people  won't 
desert  me  now,  will  they,  Dick  ?  —  not, 
now !  " 

Turner  soothed  Gregg,  but  it  took  time 
and  much  diplomacy.  Gregg  couldn't  eat  his 
lunch,  and  he  and  Turner  walked  away  most 
of  the  bright  November  afternoon,  Turner 
making  much  talk  about  religion,  philosophy, 
literature,  finance,  history,  and  spiritualism — 
anything  to  keep  Gregg's  mind  from  the  elec 
tion.  When  they  came  back  to  the  State- 
280 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

house  and  Gregg  went  into  his  private  office, 
Turner  said  to  McCord  : 

"  Professor,  you've  g-got  to  be  a  f-first  aid 
to  the  w-wounded  with  me  t-to-night,  I  can't 
g-go  through  th-that  scene  alone.  And  I  g- 
guess  it  will  be  j-just  as  w-well  if  we  sh-shake 
the  reporters  to-night.  You'd  better  c-come 
around  with  me  to  his  room  and  hear  the  r- 
returns  to-night."  McCord  dropped  his  eyes, 
shook  his  head,  and,  as  he  turned  into  the 
threshold,  said :  "Well,  I  suppose  I've  got  to 
stand  it  in  the  interests  of  humanity." 

The  first  bulletin  came  in  at  half -past  eight 
that  night.  It  was  from  New  York.  In  read 
ing  it  McCord  got  no  further  than:  "Ketums 
from  ten  precincts  in  Kings  County  indicate 
— "  when  Gregg  broke  in :  "  Oh,  to  hell  with 
New  York,  Mac — is  there  anything  from  the 
State?" 

It  was  nine  o'clock  before  the  first  message 
came  that  interested  Gregg.  It  was  from  the 
Alliance  chairman  in  Grant  County,  which 
had  given  500  majority  to  Gregg  two  years 
before.  His  message  ran  thus  :  "  Local  fight 
here ;  returns  indicate  will  carry  county  for 
Gregg  by  small  majority  ;  lose  county  ticket." 
Half  an  hour  later  a  telegram  arrived  from 
281 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

Burns  County,  the  county  which  took  the 
Alliance  banner  for  the  largest  majority  for 
Gregg  in  1890.  McCord  read  it:  "Will 
carry  most  of  county  ticket."  Before  Gregg, 
who  was  lying  on  a  bed  in  an  adjoining  room 
could  comment  on  the  news  from  Burns 
County,  Turner  gave  McCord  another  mes 
sage  from  a  doubtful  county :  "  Town  vote 
looks  bad  for  State  ticket.  County  officers 
in  doubt."  As  McCord  looked  up  from  the 
yellow  slip  of  paper,  he  saw  Gregg  in  his 
shirt  sleeves  standing  in  the  doorway.  "  Say, 
Mac,"  he  whined,  "  why  didn't  you  look 
after  those  counties  ?  Can  we  afford  to  lose 
them — do  you  think  ?  "  McCord  did  not  re 
ply.  He  handed  Gregg  another  message  con 
taining  bad  news.  Gregg  grew  pale  and  ex 
claimed  : 

"  My  God,  man — what  have  you  been  doing 
this  summer?"  Turner,  who  had  read  the 
message  over  McCord's  shoulder,  chirped 

gayly: 

"  He  seems  to  have  been  holding  a  p-post 
m-mortem!  "  The  smile  that  followed  saved 
a  scene.  McCord  replied :  "  Well,  a  bad 
beginning  makes  a  good  ending." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  before  the  messenger 
282 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 


in  with  a  new  bundle  of  bulletins.  They 
indicated  that  Gregg  was  holding  his  own  in 
certain  small  counties,  but  was  losing  where 
he  should  have  gained,  and  was  gaining  no 
where.  The  three  men  read  these  together 
in  silence.  Gregg  glared  at  McCord,  who  let 
his  hands  fall  with  a  heavy  finality  upon  his 
chair  arm. 

"  It  can't  be  true  !  It  can't  be  true  !  "  cried 
Gregg.  "  My  God,  man,  it  can't  be  true  ! 
Why  we  are  beat  !  I  tell  you,  we're  beat  !  " 
he  cried  out  passionately  arid  dropped  his 
voice  as  he  added  :  "  If  these  things  are  true  ! 
Say,  Mac,  don't  you  suppose  the  infernal 
Western  Union  is  putting  this  thing  up  oil 
us  ?  —  to  cheat  us  ?  " 

McCord  did  not  reply.  He  was  calculat 
ing  how  much  Gregg  could  lose  and  still  win. 
The  Governor  took  up  his  plaint  :  "  Mac,  why 
in  Heaven's  name  don't  you  do  something  ! 
Don't  sit  there  like  a  bump  on  a  log,  and  let 
the  Western  Union  cheat  us  !  For  God's 
sake,  Mac,  get  up  and  do  something  !  " 

"  But  what  can  I  do  ?  "  protested  McCord. 

"  Do  ?  do  ?  "  cried  Gregg.  "  Issue  a  procla 
mation.  Get  out  on  the  street  and  brand 
them  for  the  robbers  that  they  are  !  "  Turner 
283 


and  McCord  exchanged  glances.  Turner  con 
veyed  by  a  head-shake  the  fact  that  McCord 
must  break  the  truth. 

"Dan  Gregg,"  returned  McCord,  "  Look 
here  !  Stop  that  whimpering  and  be  a  man. 
Either  we've  licked  them  or  they've  licked  us, 
and  neither  event  should  find  us  howling  like 
motherless  pups."  Gregg  looked  at  McCord 
aghast  for  nearly  half  a  minute,  and  no  one 
broke  the  silence.  Gregg  tried  to  grip  him 
self  but  his  voice  squeaked  : 

"Mac,  you — you — you — you  don't  know 
what  it  means — to — me.  You  don't — you  don't 
think  they — they  can  beat  us,  can  they  ?  "  Ho 
got  his  voice  and  asked  wildly  :  "  Where's 
your  poll-book  ?  Show  me  your  damn  poll- 
book.  It  says  we'll  win." 

But  he  did  not  reach  for  the  poll-book  on 
the  table.  Instead  he  paced  through  the  two 
rooms  from  corner  to  corner,  throwing  his 
arms  and  moving  his  lips  but  uttering  no  word. 
During  the  half-hour  he  strode  thus  two 
other  bulletins  came,  but  as  McCord  scanned 
each  message  he  answered  Gregg's  pathetic, 
appealing  glance  with  a  solemn  face,  and 
Gregg  finally  sat  down  by  the  table  with  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  and  his  hands  in  his  hair, 
284 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

his  face  downward.  Occasionally  he  sighed 
heavily.  Turner  and  McCord  were  making  a 
chart.  At  eleven  o'clock  bulletins  were  com 
ing  in  rapidly.  But  none  was  encouraging. 
Gregg  did  not  look  at  them.  Once  he  lifted 
his  head  and  asked  :  "  Well  ?  " 

"Nothing  you  care  for,  Dan,"  answered 
McCord.  Turner  wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper 
"Landslide,"  and  pushed  it  toward  McCord, 
who  nodded  affirmatively.  "  Tell  him " 
pantomined  Turner.  "  All  right,"  responded 
McCord.  But  not  until  a  fresh  lot  of  bulletins 
came  and  were  pasted  on  the  chart,  and  still 
another,  when  it  was  past  midnight,  did 
McCord  speak.  Then  he  said  gently  : 

"Dan,  look  up  here."  McCord's  words 
startled  the  governor,  whose  frame  seemed  to 
shudder  back  into  the  world.  His  wild  eyes 
came  above  the  level  of  the  table-board,  red 
and  rabid-looking,  with  animal  fear  in  them. 
McCord  put  a  kind  hand  on  Gregg's 
shoulder  and  continued : 

"  It  seems  to  me  now,  Dan,  that  our  little 
show  is  over.  I  wouldn't  mind  it,  Dan. 
We've  done  our  best.  We've  played  our 
parts.  But  the  tents  are  down — or  will  be 
soon — and  whatever  our  mission  in  the  world 
285 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

was  to  be,  has  been  performed.  God  has 
granted  us  a  king's  ex,  I  guess,  Dan." 

Gregg  rose.  He  snapped  his  suspenders, 
laughed  the  old  strident,  cross-cut  laugh  that 
had  been  suppressed  since  he  left  Main  Street 
in  Pleasant  Ptidge.  It  was  a  horrible  noise. 
Then  he  cried  in  a  broken  voice  : 

"He  still  thinks  there's  a  God!"  and 
screamed  with  laughter  again.  Neither  Mc- 
Cord  nor  Turner  had  ever  heard  that  laugh 
before.  Gregg  strode  up  and  down  the  room 
babbling  :  "  He  thinks  there's  a  God,  and  his 
very  excellent  Wall  Street  God  is  going  to 
deliver  50,000,000  people  to  slavery  to  the 
money — but  a  God's  a  God  for  'a  that,  and 
this  spectacled  professor  here,  he'll  kiss  the 
chastening  rod," — and  the  crazy  laugh  ripped 
in  here — "  for  he  thinks  there's  a  God." 

McCord  answered  :  "  Shut  up  your  hys 
terics,  Gregg."  Gregg  stared  reproachfully 
at  McCord  and  Turner  for  a  moment  before 
he  turned  and  went  into  the  adjoining  room. 
The  two  men  heard  him  throw  himself  on  the 
bed  and  break  into  a  paroxysm  of  weeping 
like  a  spoiled  child.  Turner  said  softly : 

"It's  hell!" 

"  Yes,"  answered  McCord  in  a  hushed  voice. 
28(i 


A    MOST    LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  is  exactly  what  I  think 
hell  is,  Dick." 

Some  bulletins  came  in.  McCord  did  not 
unfold  them.  "  I  suppose  he  blames  the 
people,"  he  continued  in  the  same  low  tone. 
Turner  nodded.  McCord  went  on  :  "  He  f  or* 
gets  that  the  world  moves  slowly.  That  the 
same  people  are  here  now  that  were  here  two 
and  four  years  ago,  and  voting  a  reform  ticket 
doesn't  make  these  people  perfect.  You 
know,  Dick,  you  can't  help  the  world  muck 
by  voting  your  neighbor  better.  The  way  to 
help  is  to  be  better,  more  unselfish,  kinder, 
and  broader-gauged  yourself." 

Gregg's  spasm  of  anguish  was  abating. 
McCord  tip- toed  to  the  door  and  looked  in. 
He  saw  Gregg  with  the  pillows  over  his  head. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  replied  Turner  meditatively 
with  his  voice  still  repressed.  "  But  you 
s-see  the  old  m-man  he  had  this  idea  :  that 
he  c-could  sit  d-down  and  t-toss  off  a  few 
p-proclamations  and  impale  a  few  1-legisla- 
tures  on  his  oratory  and  c-coax  the  c-coy  mil 
lennium  out  of  the  r-roseate  f-future  and  put 
s-salt  on  its  t-tail." 

McCord  smiled  sadly.  He  gathered  up  his 
chart  and  whispered  :  "  I've  got  to  see  some 
287 


STRATAGEMS   AND    SPOILS 

of  the  newspaper  boys  down  stairs  and  tell 
them  some  story  about  Gregg.  You  stay  here 
till  I  get  back." 

Turner  busied  himself  looking  over  the  new 
bulletins.  He  heard  Gregg  moving  about 
in  the  adjoining  room.  A  bureau  drawer 
opened.  Turner  kept  his  eyes  on  the  papers 
before  him  and  did  not  see  Gregg,  shaking 
with  an  ague  of  fear,  take  a  revolver  from  a 
drawer.  Turner  did  not  see  Gregg  look  in 
the  barrel,  and  then  suddenly  jerk  it  out  of 
range.  But  when  he  had  done  this  the  third 
time,  and  was  about  to  put  down  the  weapon 
and  scream  in  a  frenzy,  Turner  caught  the 
glint  of  the  nickelled  barrel  in  a  mirror.  In 
a  moment  he  had  wrenched  the  thing  from 
Gregg's  limp  hands.  In  another  instant  Turner 
had  tripped  Gregg  and  had  thrown  him  on  the 
bed,  and  was  sitting  on  him.  Gregg  began 
to  sob.  Here  McCord  found  them,  Gregg 
whimpering  and  begging  Turner  to  let  him 
die. 

Turner  answered  McCord's  bewilderment 
with :  "  I  found  him  playing  with  the  p-pepper 
box,  which,  I  believe,  is  a-a-agaiust  the  r-rules 
of  the  g-game." 

Now,  in  Pleasant  Ridge  these  things  are 

288 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE    COMEDY 

unknown.  There  they  point  him  out,  Dan 
Gregg,  the  man  who  Has  Been.  He  does  not 
shine,  even  in  a  faded  glory.  He  has  never 
been  admitted  to  the  circle  of  the  town's  aris 
tocracy.  He  is  still  an  outcast,  and  he  has 
worn  his  black  Prince  Albert  coat  until  the 
metal  buttons  are  threadbare  and  the  winds 
of  many  droughts  have  turned  it  greenish- 
brown.  One  may  see  him  travelling  homeward 
any  fair  evening  in  the  sunset,  carrying  his 
yellow  parcel  of  beefsteak,  stumbling  along 
the  rough  path  that  leads  through  the  dead 
weeds — an  oldish  man,  bent  at  the  hips  like 
a  jack-knife,  casting  a  crooked  shadow  as  he 
goes. 

The  day  Gregg  left  the  capital  this  edito 
rial  appeared  in  the  State  Journal.  The  edi 
torial  is  a  part  of  this  narrative  only  because 
it  contains  that  last  serious  reference  to  Gregg 
ever  made  by  a  newspaper  in  his  State.  The 
article  is  appended  here  for  what  it  is  worth. 
The  editorial  was  headed  "  A  Most  Lament 
able  Comedy,"  and  it  ran  thus  : 

"Reform  must  come  from  the  individual. 
It  is  a  matter  of  slow  growth.  It  is  not  ac 
complished  by  enactment  or  resolution.  When 
289 


STRATAGEMS   AND   SPOILS 

the  members  of  a  considerable  majority  of  the 
people  of  any  neighborhood,  any  municipal 
ity,  any  State  or  any  nation,  see  a  truth  clearly 
enough  to  make  it  a  part  of  their  rules  of  con 
duct,  that  community  is  reformed.  After  that 
the  legal  enactment  comes,  making  sentiment 
of  the  majority  law  for  the  unenlightened 
minority.  Sometimes  in  history  a  strong 
titanic  character  arises  in  a  land  who,  by  sheer 
force  of  will  and  a  powerful  example,  drags 
the  world  about  him  along  toward  the  light. 
But  reform  is  still  a  matter  of  character — 
either  of  the  individuals  in  the  mass  or  in 
some  strong  individual  out  of  the  mass.  No 
reform  can  be  accomplished,  no  lasting  good 
may  result  from  a  wave  of  emotion  which  has 
jealousy  of  the  poor  for  the  rich  and  envy  of 
the  strong  for  the  weak  for  its  impulse. 

"  The  failure  of  the  Gregg  administration 
was  decreed  in  the  beginning.  Men  of 
Gregg's  type  have  ever  failed  and  must  always 
fail.  The  wave  of  emotion  rises  and  falls,  but 
does  not  move  forward.  Men  who  move  the 
world  must  move  it  by  their  righteousness, 
and  if  they  are  fanatic — in  spite  of  their 
fanaticism,  which  is  prima  facie  evidence  of 
weakness.  Weakness  breeds  weakness.  The 
290 


A   MOST   LAMENTABLE   COMEDY 

stream  cannot  rise  above  the  level  of  its 
source,  and  the  world  will  not  be  made  better 
by  a  man,  by  a  doctrine,  nor  a  movement  too 
weak  to  conquer  its  own  bigotry.  The 
pathetic  disappointment  of  an  earnest  but 
deluded  people  takes  the  miserable  perform 
ance  of  the  Gregg  administration  out  of  the 
list  of  farces.  Yet  it  was  certainly  "  a  most 
lamentable  comedy." 


291 


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